Beyond the Four Kingdoms Box Set 1

by Melanie Cellier

  I did notice one scurry off up a broad staircase carpeted in deep red velvet. And, sure enough, a small flood of newcomers soon began to fill the large space. By far the loudest of these new arrivals were my own people. The guards looked grim but relieved, and two of my maids even had tears on their cheeks as they exclaimed and swirled around me.

  I could barely make my own questions about their safety heard and ended up doing a head count just to reassure myself they were all there. Thankfully my maids and guards were all accounted for, including the two who had accompanied the initial group and been left bound on the road. One of the maids heard me over the hubbub and assured me that the second party with the baggage had found them before anyone suffered any serious harm.

  A quick conversation with the captain of the guard reassured him of my safety, and he promised to obey my directive to send a new message hard on the heels of his previous one to let my family know I was unharmed and safely arrived at the palace. He apologized for failing to protect me on the road, and for failing to find me subsequently, but I brushed his words aside.

  He shifted uneasily, though, clearly unwilling to let it drop.

  “I must confess to grave concerns, Your Highness,” he said, dropping his voice low, and glancing at the Eldonians around us. “I’m no longer confident I can assure your safety here. The attack and your disappearance did not—”

  I cut him off, my voice equally low. “Let me guess, no one seemed sufficiently concerned about our abduction, and your attempts to organize some sort of search and rescue attempt met with little enthusiasm?”

  His lips flattened into a grim line, and he gave a reluctant nod.

  I shrugged. “I understand your concerns, Captain, but I came here to find out what is wrong with this kingdom, and I don’t intend to turn tail now. I’ll write a full accounting of the situation to my family at the earliest opportunity absolving you of all responsibility if anything further should occur.”

  He grimaced but made no further protest. With no other Lanoverian royal to turn to, he couldn’t gainsay my orders.

  My maids informed me that I had been assigned a large suite and that my luggage had already been delivered to it. They were clearly determined to carry me off immediately for a hot bath and some sleep, and my own enthusiasm for that plan was strong. But first I wanted to speak to Oliver.

  When I turned to find him, however, I saw that King Leopold and Queen Camille had arrived. I had seen them from afar at the royal wedding in Palinar, but we hadn’t been formally introduced. They smiled and embraced their children, but I read no undue anxiety or relief on their faces. When Oliver looked up and caught my eye, he broke away from the others to gesture me over. When I stepped close enough, he introduced me.

  “Mother, Father, this is Princess Celine of Lanover.”

  I gritted my teeth and thrust the state of my dress and my overall appearance firmly from my mind as I gave a curtsy, hitting the exact depth required from a younger princess to a reigning monarch. I was used to looking my best on such occasions, but I would salvage what I could from the situation.

  When I rose back up, I found them both smiling somewhat vacantly at me.

  “Welcome Princess Celine,” said King Leopold. “We are honored by your visit.”

  “And sorry for the unpleasantness around your arrival.” Queen Camille’s soft words carried no depth of emotion.

  “But I see it has all worked out in the end,” said the king, “as I felt sure it would.”

  Emmeline nodded and declared her intention to retire, Giselle trailing behind her. I waited for the king or queen to go on, but silence fell. Should I speak in defense of Lord Treestone? I looked over at Oliver for some sort of clue. Nothing had been said of their intentions from here. King Leopold followed the direction of my gaze.

  “My son has informed me of the circumstances, and I am glad that no one was harmed. Clearly no true ill-will was meant.” He nodded his head once and clapped his son on the back. “Tonight we shall have a banquet to welcome our new guest.” He gave a half-bow in my direction, while I just blinked at him stupidly.

  Surely that couldn’t be it? I looked at Oliver again, and he gave me a slight shrug, his eyes clouded. I bit my lip. I hadn’t wanted any great harm to befall Lord Treestone or his people, and had even considered speaking in their defense, so I could hardly complain now…

  Still, this went beyond even what I had expected.

  My maids swarmed me, and I could no longer resist following them in the direction of a bath and fresh clothing. And the sight of the large and comfortable bed in my beautiful room drove other thoughts from my mind. As soon as I was clean, I sank into the soft mattress and let the icy blue velvet of the room and the warm, flickering fire fade from view as I sank into unconsciousness.

  I woke in the afternoon to a quiet room. The fire still burned, driving back the cold that had plagued me in this kingdom so far, and I spent an enjoyable half hour looking through my gowns which had already been unpacked into an expansive wardrobe. After my dismal appearance that morning—I had unfortunately caught sight of myself in a mirror before my bath—I wanted to take extra care on my presentation for the evening banquet.

  I ran my hand along the various materials and sighed with pleasure. I didn’t love gowns or materials with quite the passion of my sister-in-law Evie—a talented ex-seamstress—but I loved the effect they could produce. I had learned that from my unnaturally beautiful sister Celeste—the master spy. Looks were simply another tool in the arsenal of a princess. And if wielded well, they could be effective indeed. As a royal, the way you dressed sent a message—and I had always loved making a strong impression.

  I grinned to myself as I remembered the fights I used to have with my mother over some of my more daring ensembles. She had never understood the burden of being the youngest. The Lanoverian princesses were famed for their beauty, but I had to work to make mine stand out among so many sisters. At least once I hit eighteen she stopped trying to interfere in my clothing choices.

  In the end, I settled on a deep-red, long-sleeved evening gown that exposed my shoulders and tapered down into a point part way down my back. Daring, but not too daring. And the rich color showed off my golden skin and dark hair and eyes. I laid it out on the bed so my maids would know what I had chosen. I could trust them to choose accessories to match.

  I smiled. I was sure to stand out among all these pasty-skinned, pale northerners. Unbidden, the warm blue of Oliver’s eyes flashed through my mind. How would he react to my appearance? We would be a striking couple standing side-by-side—his fair hair the perfect foil to my dark looks.

  But thought of the prince drove my mind into more serious topics. I still needed to find the chance to talk to him privately. I had questions that wouldn’t wait.

  I slipped into a simpler gown that I could fasten without assistance and crossed to the door. Pausing, I reminded myself that unlike in Lord Treestone’s castle, I wasn’t a prisoner here. There was no reason for me to feel guilty about going exploring.

  The corridors didn’t have the same cozy warmth as my room, but they were still warmer than they had any right to be based on the appearance of the palace. I wandered through what turned out to be something of a labyrinth, full of staircases and long, echoing corridors. The furniture I saw was all dark wood, with simple elegant lines, and the occasional touch of velvet kept the overall impression from one of icy inaccessibility. To my surprise, I found that I liked it. It took the best of this icy climate and made it beautiful and somehow welcoming.

  As I explored, I lost track a little of my original goal. After so many hours on a ship, carriage, or locked in a room, I was enjoying the sense of freedom. And the décor fascinated me. It seemed far richer and deeper than the people themselves, none of whom had given me so much as a curious look.

  A concentration of the blue velvet I had seen elsewhere made me pause, my attention drawn to an elegant alcove. It contained a large portrait of a young wo
man wearing a gown that appeared to match the velvet hung around her picture. Had she been the one originally responsible for the soft touch in the palace?

  The style of her dress told me she had likely lived some time ago, and the crown on her brow suggested she must have had the authority to redecorate in her day. I examined her face for a long minute. The artist had done a good job with her expression, capturing a strange mix of sweetness and determination. Was it an accurate reflection of how she had looked in life?

  But what made me even more curious than her face was the small pedestal resting in the alcove alongside the portrait. An empty glass dome stood on top of it, holding nothing but empty air. Clearly it had been designed to display something. But what? And why was it no longer there? It gave the whole alcove an unfinished look I hadn’t seen anywhere else in the palace.

  A passing footman startled me from my reverie, my mind suddenly flashing to the time. How much had passed while I lost myself in the palace? I stopped him and asked for directions. His assumption that I wished to return to my rooms to dress for the banquet confirmed my fears about the late hour, so I didn’t demur. I would have to find a chance to talk to Oliver at the meal.

  As I followed behind the well-dressed servant, I watched the other people we passed curiously, looking for any who showed signs of greater animation than the others. Only one man caught my eye.

  His nondescript clothes made it hard to guess his profession, but he had stepped back against the wall to clear our path. Some sort of servant, then. Unlike the others, however, he watched me with a gleam in his eyes I found hard to decipher. It sent a small shiver down my back even as I frowned, something tugging at my memory. It was almost as if the man were familiar. I was good with people and faces, but I couldn’t place this one. And I could think of no reason I would recognize an Eldonian palace servant. Unless he had accompanied his monarchs to the wedding?

  We reached my suite shortly after, and I tucked the thought away for later examination. Most likely it meant nothing. But my spy-sister Celeste had taught me never to ignore my instincts. And that the smallest details sometimes turn out to be the most important.

  Chapter 7

  Back in my room, my attention was swept up into preparations for the upcoming welcome event. I had lost even more time than I realized, and my maids pounced on me as soon as I appeared. Before long, they had my hair elaborately arranged, and my gown and jewelry in place. I surveyed myself in my full-length mirror with a satisfied smile. I twisted to see the glowing skin of my upper bare back. If I wanted to make an impression—and I did—I was confident of my success. Again, a certain face dropped into my thoughts, but I pushed it away. Prince Oliver was an intriguing mystery, to be sure, but it was the Eldonian court as a whole that I wished to sweep off its feet.

  When I entered the receiving hall where the dinner guests gathered, a herald announced my arrival. All talk hushed, and everyone turned to regard me. I paused, allowing everyone to look their fill, and then swept into the room. Heading straight for the king and queen, I dropped into the curtsy I would have liked to give that morning.

  Everything went perfectly, and it should have been a triumphant moment. But the expressions around me hadn’t shifted much from their previous polite disinterest. The king and queen both smiled a distant welcome, and my gaze moved to the prince standing at his father’s side. He looked frozen, but not in the way he used to do when I first met him in Marin, and later Palinar. More like he had been immobilized by shock. And there was no mistaking the gleam of admiration in his eyes.

  I hid a satisfied smile. That was the sort of response I had been trying to achieve, and for some reason receiving it from him was enough.

  He finally seemed to shake himself free of his stupefaction, moving toward me. But they must have been waiting on my arrival because the herald stepped forward again to announce the meal. The noise of voices and movement drowned out any attempt to talk, so I had to settle for taking Prince Oliver’s arm and allowing him to lead me into the banquet hall behind his parents.

  The royal table sat on a small dais, and I had been given the place of honor beside the king. Oliver sat on my other side, but our proximity to King Leopold made any private conversation impossible. Instead, a general discussion of the various places of interest I might like to visit occupied us all. Although even that conversation often dropped into silence and required prodding from me to regain momentum.

  I expressed my admiration and amazement at their capital city, and Oliver promised to take me on a tour the next day. Apparently I could be carried about on a special chair, but I assured him I was fit enough to make the journey on my own two feet, despite the steep inclines.

  The topic of our recent abduction came up only briefly, and again King Leopold showed no great interest in our abductor.

  “You don’t intend to enact any punishment on Lord Treestone?” I asked, my curiosity growing too much for me.

  “Punishment?” The king raised both his eyebrows at me. “That hardly seems necessary when everything has turned out just fine.”

  “The poor man is immured in the far south, away from the heart of our beautiful domain,” said Queen Camille. “Surely that is punishment enough.”

  If she was making a joke, her expression didn’t show it. But I could hardly think she was serious.

  Really? For treason? For abducting your own children? I closed my mouth on all the questions I wanted to ask. Hopefully I could get some answers from Oliver later. Except my confidence in that possibility had diminished somewhat as I watched him during the meal. The spark of concern and confusion that I had seen in him during our carriage ride—and even on our arrival at the palace—seemed to have disappeared. He nodded agreeably with his parents’ words, and I could detect no sign of deeper thought in his eyes.

  Only when his gaze rested on me did I see that hint of warmth that had so animated his face for the brief period between the attack on our traveling party and our return to the capital. I hated to see him sinking back into frozen unconcern, and my frustration at this whole place was growing into a raging torrent inside me.

  And yet, despite my feelings—and certainly without my control—every time his eyes rested on me with that glint of lingering fire, I felt an answering trail of warmth shoot from my chest down into my hands. Toward the end of the meal, he leaned in, after a particularly brilliant smile from me, to whisper something into my ear, and I felt his warm breath against my skin. Without warning, a puff of heated air swept around my hands, rattling the cutlery and crockery on the table in front of me.

  I gasped and jumped, and Oliver gave me a strange look, glancing between the table and my face. I gulped and plastered the smile back in place, but his frown remained. Thankfully the king had been occupied in a quiet conversation with the queen and appeared not to have noticed.

  Whatever this new power was, I needed to get it under control. And fast. I had thought desperation—or perhaps fear, or even anger—drew it out, but I felt none of those emotions now.

  We talked of nothing of consequence for the rest of the meal, but the admiration in Oliver’s eyes had been joined by a lurking question. And though I still knew I needed to find a chance to talk to him, I now feared the questions wouldn’t all be coming from me. And I wasn’t ready to give this strange prince, who seemed to alternate between heat and ice, any answers of my own.

  When the main courses had all been cleared away, desserts were brought out, accompanied by a long line of ice sculptures. The carved shapes were easily the most intricate and beautiful I had ever seen, and the king gave me permission to leave the dais and wander among the other tables to admire them.

  Oliver accompanied me, introducing me to other diners seemingly at random. But their faces were all so bland and empty that I found myself struggling to keep the introductions straight—not a usual problem for me.

  “We hold an annual ice carving competition every winter,” he told me when I stopped to admire a particularly
beautiful one. “That was carved by this year’s winner. I wish you had been here to see it.”

  I murmured polite agreement—and I would have liked to see the competition. But not at the expense of being here in the dead of winter. I shivered. The banquet hall itself was well heated, but I still found myself wishing for the bright flames of the fire in my chambers. Even in the warm palace, the cold seemed to find a way to creep icy fingers deep into my bones.

  Oliver placed a light hand on the small of my back to lead me around another table, and his thumb brushed against my bare skin. A shot of fire burned through me, pushing out the earlier ice, and I barely refrained from jerking away. He looked back at me, something stirring in his eyes, and I forced a quick smile, pointing at another sculpture and taking the chance to put some distance between us.

  But though we didn’t touch again, I could feel a coiling warmth brewing inside me for the rest of the evening. It filled me with a barely repressed excitement—a feeling bordering close on fear. My godmother had gifted me with something extraordinary, and I would learn its secrets and force it to obey me. I was determined.

  When the evening finally ended, I said my goodnights with as much attention as I could muster and had turned toward my suite when Oliver’s voice spoke behind me.

  “Do you know the way back on your own?”

  I turned to him, realizing in my distraction that I hadn’t even considered how to get there. I thought I could probably find it. Maybe. I cast him a considering look.

  “I’m not sure that I do, to be honest.” I smiled at him, looking up through my lashes. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to show me?”

  “More than willing,” he said gallantly and offered me his arm.

  I ignored it and fell into step beside him. I said nothing until we had left the others behind and found ourselves alone in yet another long corridor.

  My smile fell away as I turned to him, still careful not to so much as brush against him. I didn’t want to accidentally set him on fire or something.