by Elle Clouse
So much for that idea. She pulled down a tome on natural science, the most likely topic to reference magic, and flipped through it, only to find that pages had been torn out. She slammed it back onto the shelf.
Kiera nearly cried when she came to what had once been her favorite part of the library. The fiction section was literally an empty bookcase. She remembered what it used to look like, books upon books of prose and poetry, adventure and romance, mystery and wonder. All that was gone now.
The toll of the evening bell startled her out of her brooding. She’d lost track of the time; dinner would be starting soon. It took every ounce of her control not to run as she left the library but to slow her steps to a more dignified pace. She promised herself she’d be back soon; she was curious as to when she could start making demands of the servants or if she would have to dust the library herself.
THAT EVENING, DINNER was served in a smaller dining room reserved for family and honored guests. Ian and Ayden sat on one side of the table, Kiera on the other. The king’s illness prevented him from attending. As her chaperone, Brogan stood in the corner of the dining room with the footmen to keep an eye on her. The princes didn’t seem interested in holding a conversation with her but talked between themselves without bothering to lower their voices. Their conversation carried through the dining room.
“It’s a real shame Mrs. Somervil left,” Ayden said. He had foregone his priest robes in favor of a poet shirt and breeches. “She was a real fun romp. Ah well, there will be plenty more women when the wedding day arrives.”
Ian grunted.
Brogan watched Kiera’s jaw clench, but she continued to push food around her plate as if she hadn’t heard. He knew it was taking all her effort not to snap at them. Even he knew better than to talk about his lady friends in front of another woman. He half expected her to stand up any moment now and slap them.
As servants served dessert, some sort of berry tart with heavy cream, Ayden turned to Kiera and asked, “Do you play chess?”
Kiera looked up in surprise. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” Ayden smiled and jabbed Ian with his elbow. “This one doesn’t play and Father doesn’t have the stamina for games. It’s a lost art.”
Ian ignored the jibe.
Kiera’s expression went blank. Brogan had seen that look enough times. She could guess what Ayden was going to say next, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
“We should retire to the parlor.” Ayden sipped some wine. “We can manage a friendly game. Maybe some cards?”
The last question he directed toward his brother, who met his smile with a level gaze. He took a few bites of his dessert, then pushed it away.
Kiera darted a fleeting glance at Brogan, which seemed to go unnoticed by the princes. “A game or two might be amusing.”
“Come.” Ayden stood and offered his hand. She took it with only a slight hesitation. Brogan followed them into the neighboring parlor, which housed a billiards table, a dartboard, a card table, and other games paraphernalia.
The chess table was set for a game. Ayden led Kiera over and seated himself on the black side, letting Kiera take the white. “Ladies first,” he said with a leering smile.
If not for that smile, Brogan thought, he would have been attractive. For a man. As it was, Kiera didn’t seem to notice. She took a moment to look over the board and moved a pawn forward. Ayden imitated the move himself. Then it was move after move, silently.
As the match progressed, Ian wandered over to the billiards table to entertain himself, leaving Brogan free to watch the game. He grabbed an apple from a fruit basket laid out on the side table and retreated to a corner where he could oversee his cousin without interference.
As the number of pieces on the board dwindled, the time between moves increased. Ayden smiled at her moves, chuckled when he took a bishop, and snorted when she captured one of his knights. It wasn’t long before white pieces outnumbered black. Either Ayden was not a strategist in chess or he was losing on purpose. Brogan couldn’t tell.
At last, Kiera moved her queen into place. “Checkmate.”
Ayden sighed and tipped over his king. “I confess I am out of practice. We shall have to make this a ritual for us. What do you think, Ian, of me stealing your wife away to the parlor every week?”
Ian looked up from his shot at the billiard table and raised a brow at the question. But he merely said, “She’ll be mine, Ayden. Just you remember that.”
Brogan waited for Kiera to say something, but she just folded her hands in her lap and looked out a nearby window. He followed her gaze. The sun had set and the moon was out.
“You look bored, my dear,” Ayden said lightly. “Dare I say, jaded? Was that game not challenging enough for you?”
Kiera returned her attention to the chess table. “Not at all. It was a very good game. It would be nice to do it again sometime.” Brogan watched her fidget with her hands and knew she lied.
“Maybe she is tired,” Ayden said, addressing his brother, who shrugged and lined up for another shot. He returned his attention to Kiera. “May I escort you to your chambers, my dear?”
Panic flashed over Kiera’s face, but only for a second. Brogan knew it would be rude to decline. She nodded. Ayden offered her his arm, and she allowed him to escort her from the room.
Brogan hastened after them to stay within earshot. It wasn’t difficult to manage. Ayden didn’t bother to hush his voice in the corridor. He slowed down so that he lingered a few yards behind them and listened.
“You know, Fedelma, dear sister-to-be, I think that you will find your marriage bed quite cold this winter,” he said as they approached her rooms. “Ian will only attend you when he needs to get an heir. I daresay that he will never love you.”
Brogan saw Kiera frown. “Marriage isn’t about love. I don’t believe in it,” she said.
“Probably because you’ve never had it.” Ayden leaned in. At the last second, she turned her head to the side. His kiss landed on her cheek instead of her lips.
His expression darkened. “You—”
Brogan approached, intent on pulling Ayden away, but Kiera shot him a warning glance and turned her attention back to Ayden.
“And I suppose you want to be the one to show me what love is?” she said, wry and mocking. “That isn’t love, what you want to give me in your bed. I will honor my father’s promise to be a wife to Ian, even if he prefers other company or no company at all. Perhaps you need to be reminded of your own promises to the temple?”
She gave him an insultingly shallow curtsy, then stepped into her room and shut the door in his face. Without another word, Ayden stormed away, his cheeks burning a dark red. He swept past the spot where Brogan stood without noticing him, and Brogan bowed low, hiding a smirk.
Once Ayden was gone, Brogan went to Kiera’s door and knocked. “Princess Fedelma,” he said softly.
Kiera opened the door. He slipped inside, and she locked it after him. He glanced around. “Where are Brigid and Erann?”
“Out still,” Kiera replied. “Gathering information, they said. Gossiping, more likely.” Her cheeks were flushed with repressed anger; she looked ready to tear someone in half. Brogan took a judicious step away from her. “This is getting worse and worse. You heard it all, didn’t you? What a disaster.”
Kiera hadn’t offered him a seat, but he took one anyway. In her current state of mind, she had likely forgotten all social niceties. “I agree. Cearbhall can’t be our retirement like we planned. After the wedding, we’ll have to take their money and leave. There’s got to be a stash of royal jewels hidden around here somewhere.”
“Why can’t we leave now? Why not just leave in the middle of the night and go to a new city? No one knows who we are and we haven’t done anything truly wrong yet.”
“But we can’t leave before we have some profit to show for it,” he said quietly. “We spent all our savings and more on our preparations. We can’t return to Talesin unless we recov
er several times the expense of your wardrobe. We can’t start fresh somewhere else without a nest egg, either.”
Kiera shot him a look of disgust. “I would rather get out of here before either one of those princes can lay a hand on me. They turn my stomach sour.”
Brogan stood and placed an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let them touch you,” he promised. “Trust me. There’s still time before the wedding, isn’t there? I’ll tell Phelan and the girls to start making preparations. Once we find something we can profit off, we’ll clear out of here. You won’t have to marry Ian at all.”
Kiera shrugged out of his hold. “Then get out of here and do your thing; find us an escape that doesn’t require a royal wedding.”
Brogan gave her shoulder one last squeeze. “Get some rest. You look exhausted.”
As he exited the suite, the lock clicked behind him. It seemed Kiera was taking no chances tonight. The sound reassured him; she was right to be cautious. There was no telling what a spoiled prince would do in the face of such a harsh no.
AYDEN RETURNED TO THE parlor to find his brother standing in front of the hearth watching the flames, his game of billiards abandoned. He went to the chess table and began to reset the pieces. “Fedelma is interesting,” he remarked.
“She turned you down, you mean?” Ian gave his brother a disgusted look over his shoulder.
“You think that I would proposition your wife-to-be?” Ayden feigned a wounded look. “I would never.”
Ian returned his gaze to the fire. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I will not have her.”
“Oh?”
“That is not the Princess Fedelma.”
Ayden froze, a white pawn in his hand. “Say that again.”
“The Siomha family visited when we were children. I vividly recall that Fedelma had green eyes. They were the only remarkable thing about her. Whoever this princess is, she’s good. She almost had me fooled. But the eyes tell the truth.”
Ayden set the pawn down. “And how long,” he said sweetly, “were you going to wait before you told me?”
“I don’t know. If it isn’t this girl, it will be some other girl. You know Father will not let me be until he has a grandchild.”
“You’d take this unknown girl to your marriage bed?” Ayden grimaced.
“I’m sure that you’ve taken worse to bed with you, Your Holiness.” Ian ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “I would have her if only to quiet Father. But I cannot let my son be borne by anyone less than royalty.”
Ayden tapped the pawn against his chin and thought for a moment. “You know, our special guest has been very ill at ease since this Fedelma arrived. Do you think he could use a visit from our imposter princess?”
It was Ian’s turn to look disgusted. “Is that your solution to everything? For once, we could use the courts to decide her fate.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ayden picked up the white queen and inspected it. “He’s been making progress lately, learning new tricks and all. Don’t you think we should reward him with a playmate?”
Ian’s gaze returned to the fire.
Ayden went on, “If she were to disappear, Father would be heartbroken, but he would forget about her eventually. He’d want to set you up with another girl after that, but at least it wouldn’t be with a fake princess. And people would think she’s simply a runaway bride...” He raised an eyebrow.
Ian considered his brother for a moment, then nodded.
BROGAN FOUND PHELAN chopping wood near the carriage house. “How’s it going?”
Phelan took a moment to finish splitting a log, then wiped his brow. “I wish I could say well. Watch this.” A guardsmen was strolling past, half out of uniform and unarmed. Phelan called out to him. “Nice night for a pint? I’m buying.”
“Piss off, you.” The guard walked past him down the path.
“And that’s one of the nicer replies I’ve gotten.” Phelan set up another log to chop.
“Maybe he thought you were making a pass at him,” Brogan offered.
“It’s everyone. From the scullery maids to the captain of the guard. No one is saying anything.” Phelan lifted his ax and split the next log in a single stroke.
Brogan frowned. “Something strange is going on here.”
“I agree. Even Erann and Brigid have been saying we should go, and you know how much they’re infatuated with their rooms.”
“Well, then it’s time for an early departure, for all is not right with the world.” It was their code for an emergency escape plan. Brogan sighed. “And make sure it’s better than the out plan for Prairie Hearth.”
Prairie Hearth had been a disaster. Kiera had hit him for five minutes straight when he’d informed her that they would have to pack up and move districts.
Phelan laughed. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t remember which twin was which. We wouldn’t have needed my plan if you’d been able to keep them straight.”
Brogan rolled his eyes. “They were identical. Anyone else would have been confused too. Anyways, let’s bring this conversation back on track, shall we? We’ll have to avoid guards and possibly the city police as well, not to mention whatever the princes put out to stop us. We’ve never dealt with royalty before, and I don’t want this to be our first time finding out the extent of their anger. Our plan has to be perfect.”
“Aye.” Phelan set up another log. “Should the time come, I’ll be ready.”
Brogan hoped he would be. Spoiled royalty could be dangerous.
THE EVENING BEFORE her wedding, Kiera dined alone in her chambers with Erann and Brigid. The meal was light: finger sandwiches, a green-leaf salad, and herbal tea. Kiera guessed it was to relax them and keep them from getting sick off fattening foods.
The days leading up to the royal wedding had flown by in a haze of final fittings, dance rehearsals, and vow memorization. As the pieces fell into place, she couldn’t help but feel as though the con was unraveling. She hadn’t seen Brogan since the night Ayden had propositioned her. He was most likely searching for their escape route from the castle. His methods were a mystery to her, but she did not waste time worrying. He always found a way. Besides, Phelan followed Brogan without question. He would protect him no matter what.
“What a strange tradition,” Brigid muttered. Her sandwich rested on the side table untouched. “And the service is at noon tomorrow during the regular Sunday mass. That’s odd too. Why would they include a royal wedding with the daily prayers?”
Erann nodded and sipped her tea.
Kiera looked at her plate of snacks but was not hungry. “Tomorrow was the whole reason we were here. What if Brogan doesn’t come through? What if I have to marry Ian?”
The three of them looked at each other, unsure of what to say.
In the distance, a wolf howled. The same wolf she had heard her first night in the castle. She shuddered. For the past few nights, she had dreamed of a wolf pursuing her through a dark forest with only the light of the moon to guide her. No matter how hard she ran, the wolf was always behind her. Its call penetrated her sleep.
They all jumped as someone rapped on the door. Kiera motioned for Brigid to answer and she hoped it was Brogan. The sooner he debriefed them about the escape plan, the better.
Brigid returned, her eyes wide. “Prince Ian wishes to speak to you in the garden.”
“Speak to me? In the garden? At this hour? Whatever for?” All the wedding planning was done. The king’s health had been good. There was no reason for him to want to meet with her now. “I have no chaperone.”
“He says the prince insists.”
“I...”
“You have to go,” Erann muttered.
“I know that.” Kiera stood and looked around. She couldn’t ignore the summons of the crown prince. “Brigid, pull the bell for a runner. Someone will have to track Brogan down.”
Long minutes passed. No servant appeared. Brigid pulled the call bell again. Several more moments passed.
Brigid bit her lower lip. “I don’t think anyone is coming.”
“Maybe.” Why was no servant answering her call? “But I can’t go alone.”
Erann folded her arms over her chest, and Brigid stared at her shoes. Neither looked as though they were going to volunteer.
A sense of unease gnawed at her. “Brigid, you’ll have to come with me.” It was improper, but Kiera didn’t have any other choice. She couldn’t go to this meeting alone. “Erann, go find Brogan or Phelan. Tell them that Ian summoned me to the garden.”
“How do you know that Ian doesn’t want to test the waters before he sets sail?” Erann laughed sourly. Brigid let out an exasperated sigh. The tension in the room was too thick.
“Just go,” Kiera ordered and marched out, Brigid on her heels.
The halls were empty, and Kiera’s steps sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. Neither she nor Brigid spoke. Brigid pressed her lips together in a thin, white line and peered down every branching hallway as though expecting someone to jump out at them.
Outside, a mostly full, waning moon hung in the sky. The long shadows cast by the sculpted bushes plunged the night into ominous darkness.
There was no one in sight. Frowning, Kiera motioned for Brigid to stay with her and began to take the winding path through the garden. They had almost reached the end and Kiera was starting to think the summons a joke when a rustle in the bushes caught her attention. She turned to see Ian emerge from the shadows, his gaze locked on her.
Automatically, Kiera dipped into a curtsy. Beside her, Brigid did the same. “Good evening, Your Highness,” Kiera said.
“Good evening, Princess.” He glanced at Brigid, and the corners of his lips curled up. “Your maidservant is not needed. She is dismissed.”
Kiera and Brigid exchanged a look. Brigid curtsied again. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said, “but I’m not leaving my lady alone with you.”
Ian’s expression hardened. He signaled.
A guard came out of the shadows and positioned himself between the two women. One hand rested on his sword hilt, ready to draw.
