Pelor knew the king didn’t care much for Mirabelle, but was she so deeply loathed? Was this what had caused her to be so forward with him? She needed to be married, and yet the family didn’t put out any effort in finding her a spouse. Pelor was sure there was more to the story, but he didn’t dare ask.
“I’m glad too, my lord,” he said when he realized Wolfric was waiting for a response.
Wolfric draped his arm over Pelor’s shoulders. “Call me Father,” he ordered as they emerged into the great hall.
Federic and Rulfric, Wolfric’s oldest sons, stood in their own formal outfits near the doorway. They joined their father and new brother, neither looking that impressed with the situation. Federic was still far from his former robust self but, from what Pelor had heard, the heir intended to accompany his father to the front.
“Now, Pelor, Fed and I will be away for a number of months at least. We’re squashing Dothan once and for all. You’ll be in charge while I’m gone.”
Pelor smiled up at his new father. He hadn’t seen this coming, but readily welcomed the responsibility. Unbidden by him, the memory of Wolfric beating the woman he had just bed came to Pelor’s mind. Was he making a mistake? Should he have returned with Bethany and that knight?
If he wasn’t truly on Wolfric’s side, was he willing to do what was necessary to stop the king? And if he wanted to stop the king was he better off running now or marrying into the family? He could do a lot more damage from within.
Pelor felt his breathing begin to come in swift gasps as his mind raced ahead without him. What was he doing?
“Look. The groom’s nervous,” laughed Fed, thumping Pelor on the back. “Let’s get him married before he sees the bride and changes his mind.”
Only there wasn’t any time to change his mind. Within minutes the ceremony was over, leaving Pelor forever connected to the princess. She smiled, leaning on his arm, her eyes every once in a while flickering up this face. Pelor tried to ignore the fire burning in her eyes.
They were all sitting at the head table, eating the ceremonial meal when he heard Rulfric pipe up.
“Father, what say you to me joining you at the front? You have Pelor here, after all,” the prince added with a sneer.
Suddenly Pelor realized the king’s sudden favor had alienated his new brother.
“Fine. If you’d like,” grunted the king, barely taking his eyes off his meal.
The next morning they would be leaving, possibly to never return again. Pelor glanced around the head table. The queen ate quietly, her eyes dry. Mirabelle seemed unaffected by her father’s risky journey. Even Cedric, the youngest of the adult princes, was more focused on eating than what was about to happen. Did they not care?
A few more snide remarks passed Wolfric’s lips, directed at various members of his family, before Pelor realized why everyone seemed so calm. They didn’t care if Wolfric was killed in battle. Pelor turned his attention to the slaves. When not serving, they were clumped in small groups near their service entrances, whispering to each other. He saw a spark in their eyes. They too wanted to see the king dead.
The newlywed nearly relieved himself of his meal all over the table. He had just married into the most villainous family on the peninsula, all for the sake of power. Well, he had achieved power, far more than he had expected.
The question was, what was he going to do with it?
Long before he could decide how he would respond to the power handed him, Mirabelle squeezed his fingers and smiled at him. It was a signal and, as much as he might like to, he couldn’t ignore it. Pelor glanced at the others, noticing that the men, including Wolfric, were eyeing him with expectation. Cedric even winked at him.
Pelor felt his cheeks heat up as he climbed to his feet, quickly assisting Mirabelle up. He bowed to the king and queen and silently escorted his new bride out of the great hall. They walked in silence. Pelor assumed the princess’ nerves were the only thing keeping her quiet. He was normally unable to shut her up.
They reached her room where she stopped, waiting expectantly for him to open the door. He did so and found that his possessions were, as planned, in her room. She flounced in, smiling wickedly up at him. Pelor began his mental exercise of imagining her as someone else. Guilt made his heart beat faster, but if picturing another princess was what he had to do to impregnate her, so be it.
Mirabelle barely waited for the door to shut before she flung herself at him. Pelor caught her up, kissing her aggressively. She matched him kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, and Pelor found himself rising to the occasion.
Bethany felt a pair of warm hands take hold of her waist, pulling her up against a firm chest. She couldn’t see anything, but chose not to worry about that minor detail. His touch was enough. She didn’t need to see. His hand shifted to the base of her neck as his lips found hers. She responded to his kisses willingly. Her own hands shifted from his arms to his neck.
As the princess moved her hand to his cheek, she felt a sudden wave of trepidation, but as her fingers brushed the harsh scars, her anxiety eased. Everything was right.
Bethany woke with a start, sitting straight up. Her breath was coming in rapid gasps. She wasn’t afraid. No, it was a strange new emotion she couldn’t name. Her stomach felt raw as she forced herself to remember her dream. She had been with Erin. Alone with Erin. His hands had been everywhere.
Slowly, Bethany’s thoughts shifted from his kisses in her dreams to the one time he had kissed her. He had been about to leave her alone outside Dothan. His lips had been urgent, hard even. Though she hadn’t realized it then, there had been a desperation in that one kiss, as though he thought he would never see her again.
And yet he was here now. The minute she chose to leave her room she would see him.
Bethany’s smile dipped down into a frown. What had that kiss meant?
Was it an expression of love? Or a simple goodbye kiss?
Bethany wasn’t experienced in this area. In fact, other than the intimacy Federic had forced on her, Bethany had never experienced anyone else’s lips on hers. She didn’t understand what a kiss meant, much less the strange feeling forming between her legs as she thought about Erin.
A knock on the door had her scrambling for her dressing gown, as though she had been caught doing something naughty.
“Enter,” she said once she was sure her night dress was completely covered.
Unsurprisingly, Cilia entered. “Another message has arrived from Carthind. You’re wanted in the king’s office.”
Bethany thought back to her sister’s home, a wave of guilt nearly sending her to the ground. She had been so busy since the refugees had arrived. Her sister’s death felt like a distant ache, rather than the anguish she should have bene feeling. In fact, Bethany had barely shed a tear for her dead sister. It felt as though her sister had died long ago, back when Bethany had first been sold into slavery.
Bethany shook her head, dispelling the conflicting emotions. If there was word from Carthind then she needed to be present. Her brother was still making idiotic decisions, and her mother was too well trained to stay silent.
“Is Erin ready?” she asked as she ducked behind her changing curtain and scurried into a simple gown.
“Sir Caldry is outside the door.”
Bethany changed in record time, looping her hair up into a knot at the base of her head. She knew wisps of hair would escape her simple arrangement before she made it down the steps, but she didn’t care. Before Cilia could complain, she raced out of the room.
Erin didn’t stop to ask her why they were practically running down the stairs, but quickly took after her. She had no doubt he would ask her later. She was perfectly willing to tell him how much she loathed her lady-in-waiting.
Bethany was nearly out of breath when they finally reached Gilead’s office. The guards eyed her for a second before opening the door. Bethany felt the loose hair around her face tickle her chin. No doubt she looked as though she had just rolled out of
bed—which, in fact, she had.
“Ah, there you,” the king said, barely taking notice of her.
The queen, on the other hand, gave her a long stare as she took in her simple dress and fly-away hair.
“We have heard from Carthind,” began the king as he motioned for the one empty chair. “Josef has died of the illness. I’ll be sending for the children today.”
Bethany felt her heart sink. Josef was her sister’s husband. Her many nieces and nephews were now orphaned. The princess forced herself to think on that later. There were bigger issues at hand than her own grief. Like her sister’s death, mourning for her brother-in-law would have to wait.
“Gilead, you can’t bring the children here,” she said, feeling villainous just for thinking it.
“What do you mean?” demanded the king. “They’re family. You don’t actually expect me to leave our own family members there, orphaned and alone!”
Bethany let out a sigh. Of course her brother would choose now to be sentimental.
“They’re just children, Bethany,” added Gilead.
“I know, Gilead. I know. I don’t like having to say this, but if you bring them here, you may bring with them the illness. Thus far we have had no such illness here. They need to stay in Carthind until it passes.”
“And what? Just leave them alone?”
“I’ll go take care of them,” offered Bethany, feeling a stab of guilt as she realized she had just volunteered Erin too.
“Not a chance. I’ve just finished the agreement for your betrothal. You’re needed here. The children will come here.”
“Gilead,” snapped Bethany, doing her best to ignore what her brother had just said about an engagement. “We could all get the sickness if the children come here. We could all die.”
“You care more about your own life than your nieces and nephews?” growled Gilead. “They’re just children.”
Bethany took a deep breath. She felt guilty enough without her brother’s help, but she had to make her point.
“I know they are, and I want them here and safe. I really do. But I also don’t want to see an epidemic across our-your nation. The more people travel in and out of Carthind the faster any illness will spread.”
“Silence,” roared Gilead. “I said they’re coming here. I want to hear no more about it. Do you understand me?”
Bethany glared up at her brother until she saw his fingers curl into a fist. Finally, though it made her sick to her stomach, she nodded meekly.
“Good. Now, are you ready to meet your betrothed?”
Bethany felt her stomach drop. Her betrothed? For some reason, her eyes flickered to where Erin stood. She recognized the expression he used when trying to hide some emotion. No doubt he was angry about her brother bringing the children here.
“Yes,” she said when she realized Gilead was waiting for a response.
“Good. Come along.”
Gilead ignored the fact she looked more like a frazzled mother than a young princess and led the group out of his office. They trailed into the great hall where a group of well-dressed men stood in a small clump near the fire. Bethany spotted Sevar working with one of the women at the other end of the room. The mute child climbed to her feet, ready to run to Bethany. Bethany motioned for her to stay put before turning her attention on the group. Undoubtedly, one of them would soon be her husband.
Nausea crept into Bethany’s stomach as she considered what marriage would mean. Bethany had known how difficult marriage would be ever since Erin had saved her from Fed’s bed, but she had refused to think deeply on the topic. It did no good worrying about the future when she could barely cope with the present.
Before Bethany could get her emotions in check, Gilead grabbed her arm and dragged her forward. The next moment she found herself staring up at a distantly familiar face.
“Bethany, you remember Lord Miach?” Gilead asked.
Bethany nodded, unable to force a whisper from her constricted throat. She swallowed.
“Of course,” she finally squeaked. “Pleasure to see you again, Lord Miach.”
“It will bring great joy to this nation to see you two joined,” said Gilead in a formal tone as he placed Bethany’s fingers in Miach’s outstretched hand.
Bethany had no doubt Lord Miach had one time been an exceptionally handsome man, but his prime was at least ten years in the past. She knew he was a landed lord, with a large estate near the western coast. She had seen him around the castle since her return celebration when they had briefly danced together. Had he been working toward their union all this time?
Lord Miach smiled down at her.
“Princess Bethany, it is a great honor to take you as my wife.”
Bethany swallowed another lump in her throat before biting down on her tongue to keep from crying. She pushed her lips up into a smile and nodded.
“With your union, I will finally have the ability to squash Wolfric,” announced Gilead.
Bethany didn’t know exactly what her brother meant, but she felt the intended affect of his words: her union was vital to his plans and she was duty bound to obey.
Erin kicked at the packed dirt of the bailey, his eyes continually flicking to where Bethany strolled with her new betrothed.
“Betrothed,” Erin muttered to himself as he kicked another pebble.
When Erin had been introduced to Lord Miach as her bodyguard, he had dismissed the scarred knight, saying he was capable of protecting his to-be wife should anything untoward happen within the castle.
“Not likely,” mumbled Erin to himself.
His eyes drifted to where Gilead sat beneath a fabric awning with his mother, under the pretense of watching a few soldiers work through their training exercises. Like him, their eyes often shifted to where the couple walked in circles. From where he stood, Erin could see Bethany’s mouth working as she spoke a brief sentence. From what he could tell, Miach was doing most of the talking. No doubt the pompous lord liked it that way.
“Doesn’t even know what he’s got there,” growled Erin.
In an effort to expel his pent up energy, Erin joined the men in training. He picked up a wooden practice sword and accepted a partner. They danced around each other. The other man held his own only because half of Erin’s attention was on Bethany.
Erin knew this could result in him looking like a fool and, therefore forced his attention on his opponent. The man opposite him was at least twenty pounds heavier than Erin, and all of it sturdy muscle. Erin forced Bethany out of his mind as he settled into the ever shifting dance of the battle. The large man liked to try to over-power Erin with his greater mass. Erin quickly began using the moves he had taught Bethany and it wasn’t long before he had the man eating dirt, his sword pressed against the man’s ass.
“Speed always wins over muscle,” he said, repeating what he had told Bethany time again.
Erin wondered why the queen was staring at him so intently as he tossed his sword back into the pile. He ignored her and went back to kicking at pebbles, too angry to play-fight fairly.
Chapter Thirteen
Bethany marched down the hallway, wondering where Erin could be. Though her brother had relaxed a little on the topic of her continual need for a bodyguard, she still wasn’t allowed to leave the keep without Erin, even to visit the bailey.
The queen expected her grandchildren to arrive from Carthind at some point today, meaning Bethany had plenty of work before her. Though she had already brought the old nursery back to life and sought out a proper woman to watch and teach the children, she still needed to arrange a room for their lessons and speak with the stable master—evidently the eldest of her nephews was bringing his pony.
Bethany reached the stairs leading down to the main level and stopped. She glanced back down the corridor, unsure if she should look downstairs or not. She was just about to descend the steps when she felt a hand grab her arm and tug her away from the precipice.
The princess suddenly found h
erself tucked into one of the tiny closets used by the servants to store cleaning supplies. She felt an empty bucket bump against her ankles. The warmth of another body told her she wasn’t alone in the little closet. Panic began to constrict her breathing as the person’s hands grabbed her shoulders. She forced herself to take a deep breath through her nose. Over the smell of cleaning alcohol and lye, she smelled something familiar: leather, horse, and chilies.
“Erin?” she whispered.
“You know someone else who might drag you into a water closet?” he asked.
“No, but I also never suspected you might do it either.”
Bethany could almost feel Erin smile at her quip.
“We need to talk,” he responded after a quiet moment.
“We spend all day together. Why must we talk in a closet?”
“Yes, we spend all day together without a moment of privacy.”
Bethany swallowed the lump in her throat before responding. “I don’t know if we can have… private talks anymore, Erin. After all, I’m engaged now.”
Erin slid his warm hands down her arms until he was gripping her hands between his rough fingers. Bethany wanted to step forward and lean into his strong chest, where she felt so safe and secure, but forced herself to hold still. It would not be appropriate. In fact, it probably never had been.
“You’re really going to marry that old fool?”
“What choice do I have?”
“Let’s leave. Gilead can’t make you marry some old man. You can’t let him.”
“He’s not only the head my family, he is also my king. He can do anything he pleases with me.”
Bethany listened to Erin curse under his breath. She felt her lips pull up into a smile. The anger in his voice made her insides tingle and her heart beat faster, though she had no idea why she reacted this way. For whatever reason, it made her happy to know he didn’t want her to obey her brother. Sadly, she knew her duty, not just to her family, but to the people of Dothan.
The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy Page 69
