Rigel nudges me back toward him. “Go away, dragon.”
“I’m not a pet you can send away at will.” She narrows her jeweled eyes, and a wisp of smoke curls from one of her nostrils.
“That’s a shame,” Rigel whispers.
I bite back a smile.
Adrinel’s tail twitches in irritation. “If you can extract yourselves from each other’s arms, we should arrive by late evening.”
With a wry smile, Rigel releases me. We mount our horses, and Adrinel leaps into the air.
I watch her until she disappears again. Once she’s gone, I ask, “Why did the dragons join you for my rescue?”
Rigel snorts. “It’s more like we joined them, but where our mission was to rescue you, theirs’ was to retaliate against your father.”
I give him a questioning look.
“He attacked the feral dragons while you were in the tower.”
“Was he successful?” I whisper.
Rigel stares at the horizon. “The dragons fell to the dark magic—every one of them.”
I close my eyes. What has Father done?
“But he was disappointed in his prize.”
“What do you mean?” I look at Rigel sharply. “The sculpture wasn’t there?”
Rigel laughs, a victorious smile on his face. “It was there—but our spies have told us it’s lifeless. Whatever magic it once held has seeped back into the depths where it belongs.”
I tilt my head toward the sun, relishing its heat. I let the news sink in, and a weight is lifted from my shoulders.
But one small darkness remains.
Looking back at Rigel, I say, “He gave up ten years of his life with the hope that the figure would save him.”
Rigel studies me, concerned.
I smile, reassuring him I’m all right. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”
He nods and reaches between our horses, taking my hand. “It is. And we must be careful where we place our hope.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I sink under the bubbles and let the tepid water cover my face. Though I’ve scrubbed, soaked, and scrubbed some more, I can still feel grime on me. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of it.
Golden light shines through the western window. We didn’t arrive in Archer’s lands until the wee hours of the morning. Pippa immediately ushered me up to my temporary chambers. I’ve slept most of the day, but still, all I want is to crawl from this tub and sleep for days more.
“Seirsha? Are you well?” Pippa calls from the other side of the screen. I mumble something unintelligible, and she peeks around the corner. “You’ve been in there for ages. Surely the water is frigid by now.”
The water is nearly cold, but the thought of climbing out of the tub sounds dreadful.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” I say.
She disappears around the corner. “I’ll call the maids.”
Apparently, I’m such a mess she thinks I’ll need more than one. I pull a sopping mass of knotted hair over my shoulder. I’m afraid she’s right.
Knowing I can’t avoid it any longer, I stand and reach for the cloth hanging near the tub. I bring it to my face as I wrap it around myself. It’s soft against my skin, and I believe I may fall asleep on my feet.
The outer chamber opens, and two female voices join Pippa’s. I can’t stand here forever. A groan escapes me as I lean over to dry my legs. I ache everywhere. I don’t know whether it’s from the days in the tower or from the ride. Probably both.
I’m met by two sets of pretty, perky, eager-to-please eyes. The maids curtsy almost in unison, and I have a strong urge to send them out the door and back to wherever they came from. The only thing that keeps me from ignoring them and going to bed is their awkward, too-rigid posture and the way their fingers fidget at their sides.
“You’re not ladies’ maids, are you?” I ask.
Their faces fall, and the taller of the two—a girl of about fifteen with light brown hair and dark eyes—says, “No, Your Highness, but we have tended our mother’s and older sisters’ hair for years.”
They’re sisters then. The youngest wrings her hands, fearing dismissal.
“All right,” I say. “Find me something to wear.”
They instantly turn to the wardrobe, but when they open it, they find it empty. The sisters look at Pippa for guidance.
“I thought the gown was brought in.” She sounds slightly agitated. “I’ll have to go fetch it.”
With water dripping to the floor, still only wrapped in this cloth, I give her an exasperated look.
Her irritation turns to amusement, and she laughs, enjoying my discomfort. “I’ll hurry back.”
The minutes spent waiting for Pippa to return are painful. Both girls, whose names I’ve learned are Linsley and Moira, stare at the floor. I shiver, and a persistent river of water streams from my matted hair and runs down my back.
The door finally swings open, and I look over, relieved. It took her long enough.
“Sorry,” Pippa says, not sounding sorry at all. “Rigel wanted to know how you are.”
“I’m lovely.”
She laughs and hands the garment to the girls. “Yes, I told him you were as snarly as a mountain cat. He didn’t seem surprised.”
I look away, ashamed.
“I’m sorry.” I swallow. “You’ve all done so much. I just…” I rub my temples.
Pippa waves away my apology. “You need a meal and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, you will have to settle for the meal for now.”
“Why?”
I raise my arms as the maids slip the skirts over my head. The material settles against my skin like a caress. The full gown falls just to the floor in layer after layer of fur-trimmed white silk. The bodice molds to my skin, fitting snug once the laces are tied.
“Rigel has called a council,” Pippa says.
I eye the fabric. “Tell him I want no part of it.” I run my finger along the fur. “Where exactly did you find this?”
Pippa glances over then looks away. “It must have belonged to Archer’s mother. It was hanging in one of the rooms.”
There isn’t a hint of moth damage. I sniff my arm. The smell of the herbs that repel the nuisances is oddly absent as well.
Pippa wanders to the window, her gaze on the setting sun. “Her hair,” she directs the maids.
I sit while they work out the snarls. Though they are gentler than Bea ever was, it takes the pair forever. The thought brings on a sharp pang of sadness, and I fight it back.
“Braid it back but keep it soft,” Pippa instructs.
Moira twists a few strands and then looks at the princess.
Pippa shakes her head. “Something looser but contained.” Her hands move as she speaks, trying to demonstrate her meaning. “Maybe weave some pearls into it? Oh, I don’t know,” she finally says, exasperated.
“Pippa, what’s going on?”
“Council meeting,” she immediately answers, not bothering to meet my gaze. “Like I said.”
I frown at her.
“Be quick about it.” She turns to Moira. “It’s almost dusk.”
Once I pass Pippa’s odd evaluation, she drags me out of my chambers and down a hall.
“It’s just through there,” she says as she shoos me to a door. “I’ll be in momentarily.”
I turn back, nervous to go in alone. “Where are you going?”
The princess waves her hand even as she trots quickly down the hall. “I forgot something.”
While listening to her fading footsteps, I stare at the door. Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I push the door open. That breath catches in my lungs.
The hall is glass, and the walls reflect the flicker of what must be hundreds of candles. A great many of those candles hang in tiny lanterns suspended from an old, gnarled tree growing in the very center of the room. Its branches extend high to the glassed roof. Herbs and flowers of all types grow in a maze of waist-high garden beds. Amid the planters are
at least a dozen circular tables, all set with crisp white linens and decked with mounds of cut flowers and even more candles.
There’s not a soul in sight. I take a hesitant step inside and crane my neck to stare at the gold canopy of leaves above me. A laugh builds in my throat. It’s an Eldentimber tree—I’ve walked into a fairy garden of Pippa’s making. This could only be her greenhouse.
“Do you like it?”
I turn around to face Rigel. A laugh of surprise bubbles past my lips, but it catches when my eyes sweep over him. He wears a tunic of Errinton’s traditional black and orange with his family’s crest stitched in silver across the front. His sword is belted at his side, and it shines in the candlelight as if it has just been polished.
Butterflies in my stomach take flight as I glance at my gown.
Rigel sets his hands on my face, his eyes searching mine. My heart beats wildly, and I truly believe at this moment I could die happy.
“I take it there isn’t going to be a council meeting?” I whisper.
His smile is fast and bright, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He leans in close, his lips a breath away from my ear. “I was hoping you would marry me tonight.”
I blink and nod, unable to find my voice. I wrap my arms around his neck and laugh as he holds me tight and lifts me off my feet.
Suddenly, a dozen happy voices call out from behind us. People—most of whom I don’t know—swarm into the room, laughing and cheering. Finally, I spot Pippa and Archer. They break through the crowd, and Pippa grabs my arm and pulls me toward the entrance. She shoos people out of our way. Once I’ve been ushered out, she closes the doors behind us. Several young girls loiter about, each holding a bouquet of herbs and flowers.
“Did you plan this?” I ask Pippa.
She nods, her eyes bright. “It’s too bad my brother didn’t allow his wife to travel here with him. She’s much better at this sort of thing.”
My throat constricts with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”
“Are you ready?”
I take a deep breath, and my heart is so full I think it might burst. I’m going to marry Rigel—and not alone and in secret, practically hiding from the world—but here with friends and people who love us.
Pippa fixes my gown, shoves a bouquet in my hands, and then gives the doors a sound rap. The doors open, revealing the room full-to-bursting with guests. They stand at the tables, and all are turned toward me. Rigel waits with a bishop just in front of the Eldentimber tree. Archer stands at his side.
Pippa motions the girls along, and they sweep in as elegantly as children are capable, giggling as they go. I’m doing well controlling my emotions—then I spot a familiar girl. It’s Isla, the dirty little urchin from the streets. She grins up at me, and she’s as beautiful as a pixie in her tiny green gown. Her hair is sleek and clean, and her cheeks are pink and healthy. I blink quickly, fighting back tears.
Archer and Pippa have taken on refugees of their own, rescuing people from the village outside the castle.
Pippa gives my arm a squeeze, and then she follows the girls down the makeshift aisle, walking through the maze of flower beds to reach the tree. The music changes, the guests rise, and it’s time. Rigel watches me.
I walk to him as if in a dream. I can’t quite believe this is real. He reaches his hands out for me once I draw near, and he clasps them tightly. I chance a peek at him, and my eyes fill with joyful tears. I wish I could be composed and serene, but I’m too overcome.
“Do you, Lord Rigel of Errinton, take this woman in holy matrimony?”
Rigel’s lips tip. “I do.”
“And do you, Princess Seirsha, Heir to the Errintonian Throne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I say, my voice wavering with emotion.
“Do you have the rings?” the bishop asks.
Pippa gives me a nudge and slips a simple silver band into my hand. I slide the ring over Rigel’s finger.
Instead of turning to Archer for my ring, Rigel gently pulls the chain from around my neck and offers me his hand. I set my palm in his, and as he slides the ring on my finger, the sapphire catches in the candlelight.
Rigel’s eyes are dark and warm. “I swear to you, I will protect you with my life, and I will love you for all of my days.”
“I’ve loved you since we were young,” I say. “And I always will. I’ll be true to you, honor you, and stand by your side for as long as I may live.”
“You may kiss your bride.”
Rigel studies me for just a moment as if committing the moment to memory, and then he lowers his lips to mine. His kiss is soft and sweet—completely perfect.
The crowd leaps to their feet as we turn to them, and they cheer. I make to step down, but Rigel holds me back.
The Marquis of Preywoth comes forward. He bends on one knee and lowers his head. “I swear my loyalty and blade to the true king—King Rigel and his fair queen, Seirsha.”
Behind him, Lord Fisher comes forward and does the same. Half of the lords must be here, and they all follow suit. I clasp Rigel’s hand tightly as I watch them. I’m barely able to believe what I’m seeing.
The lords make way for a tall man in Lauramore’s sapphire and silver. He’s handsome and sure, not much older than Rigel. He fists his hand and places it on his chest. “I speak on behalf of my father, King Ewan. Lauramore extends their hand, seeking an alliance with you, Rigel and Seirsha, future King and Queen of Errinton.”
A second man comes forward. “Glendon wishes for an alliance as well.”
“As does Primewood,” another man calls out from the crowd. He stands, his eyes sparkling with good humor, and then he holds up his hand in a casual greeting.
Another man stands. “And Coppel.”
“And Triblue,” says a blond man toward the front.
Never in my life had I thought I would see this moment.
“Friends,” Rigel says as he squeezes my hand, and I wonder if he too is overcome. “There are no words to express my gratitude.”
And for the first time, I truly believe we will come out of this triumphant.
***
The candles are low. Many have snuffed out. The few flower girls that remain are asleep in their mother’s laps. Despite the late hour, we linger at our table with Pippa and Archer and the princes who have traveled to Errinton. I lean against Rigel, content to stay by his side as he runs his hand along my arm.
All but one of the musicians has retired. The man that remains strums his quiet song from the corner. There’s little food left and none of the sweets—those were eagerly snatched up by the children unaccustomed to such novelties.
It was—is—the most beautiful evening, far more lovely than I could ever imagine. I twirl a gold leaf between my fingers and marvel at the way it catches the remaining firelight.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Pippa says from my side, looking up into the branches. “It’s a gift I would have never hoped for. Who would have thought an Eldentimber tree would grow in Errinton? And on Archer’s estate?”
“It’s not unheard of,” I say. “But it’s still a beautiful surprise.”
She nods, turns to Archer, and bumps his arm with her shoulder. “I’m tired.”
He glances around as if he’s just now realizing how late it is. Despite the way men tease women, they know how to gossip as well.
Rigel leans over, his breath tickling my ear. “Are you tired?”
I meet his dark gaze, and butterflies swarm my stomach. Instead of answering, I rise. The party says their goodbyes—all polite, nice goodbyes—but I still keep my gaze averted as my cheeks warm.
Rigel leads me from the make-shift fairy garden. We pass through the doors and are once again simply in Archer’s estate castle. The hall is empty, quiet. Somewhere nearby, servants prepare to clear the mess of the evening, but none are out yet.
I trail behind Rigel, my hand secure in his. My nerves are so tightly coiled; I’m afraid I may come u
ndone at any moment. We pass the room that I thought was to be mine and instead pause in front of a door toward the end of the hallway.
Rigel sets his hand on my cheek. “Seirsha.”
I lean into his touch, letting it calm me even as it makes me burn. His lips trail over my jaw before he kisses me, and then, without any warning, he scoops me into his arms. I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck to keep my balance. He swings the door open and enters the main chamber. Instead of setting me down, he continues to the next door.
My heart races as Rigel lowers me beside the bed. He steps back so we’re not quite touching, and our gazes meet. It’s a look I used to find discomforting, but now I have nothing to hide.
“Did you ever dare to hope for this?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Not this.” He motions to the doors that separate us from the rest of the world. “This night…”
I take a step forward, my eyes never leaving his. “Isn’t over.”
Slowly, I turn, offering him the ties at my back. With gentle fingers, he works the fabric.
Then he brushes my hair aside and kisses the crook of my neck. “Be with me?”
I turn into his arms. “Forever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I wake to Rigel’s soft breath on my neck. I peek an eye open and am surprised to see the morning sunshine streaming through the window. It must be late, but with Rigel’s arms wrapped around me, I don’t care. Just because I can, I run my foot down his leg. He mumbles in his sleep, pulls me closer, and I close my eyes again, completely content to doze the morning away.
I awaken to a knock outside our chambers. Rigel groans as he sits up. His smile is lazy and slow, and it warms me. I wrap the blankets around my shoulders as he goes to answer the knock. He says something, nods a few times, and then finally closes the door.
I wait, expecting him to come back to bed, but instead he raises an eyebrow, a wry smile on his lips. “The dragons have gathered.”
“Where?”
He glances out the window. “Here, apparently.”
I suck in a breath. “When you say dragons you mean—”
“All of them, from what I understand.”
Seirsha of Errinton Page 21
