“I envy those who don’t have to go,” I say. “I don’t want to endure the stares.”
“And I envy those who will dance with you,” he says quietly, turning to look at me.
My heart thumps in my chest and I am keenly aware of the pressure of his hand in mine. And of his green eyes, and the longing I read in them.
“Vena was inquiring about you the other day,” I say suddenly. “She wanted to know if you were, well . . . if there was someone else in your life.” I fumble over my words, aware that my voice sounds far from casual.
“Are you asking me if there is anyone whom I care for?” he says, still staring at me.
His question hangs over us like a storm cloud and we are silent. For all my family’s wealth, love is the one luxury royalty cannot afford. Something we both know well.
Our gazes hold, until he sighs and looks away. “I heard you met with the Kyrenican ambassador a few days ago,” he says in a normal tone. “Do you think it is possible to avoid war?”
“I believe my father and King Ezebo will figure out an agreement that is suitable to both of them,” I answer carefully.
I know it is wrong not to tell Patric of the betrothal. Yet these last few months practicing with him have seemed like an iridescent bubble: beautiful, but without tangible form. Hard to hold on to, but easy to destroy. And to speak the words aloud, to whisper of a marriage contract, will do exactly that. And then Patric, always honorable, will see our whispered conversations as disrespectful to the crown prince of Kyrenica.
Patric squeezes my hand. “Let us get back to training, before the guards become suspicious.”
Frustrated, I stand and follow him. We take our positions and he says, “All right, Princess, this time, I would like to see more aggression. You haven’t learned how to properly attack, and you are too quick to assume a defensive posture.”
He raises his sword. I raise mine, and he motions for me to attack.
I slash once and then twice at Patric, who easily parries my thrusts. “Wilha, wait. You aren’t hacking at shrubbery. This wouldn’t work in real combat. You’re exposing . . .”
I continue coming at him with my sword; lunging once, twice, three times, and again. I am not fighting Patric now, or even the shadowy villain of my imagination. Instead I am slashing at the peace treaty, which marries me off to the Strassburgs as though I have no will or desires of my own.
Patric backs up as he continues to silently block my thrusts, until he trips and falls over the root of an apple tree.
Coming back to my senses and breathless from the exertion, I smile and point the tip of my sword at his chest. “I’ve won.”
“Have you?” he asks. “Look down at your left foot.”
I look. Without my noticing, Patric has drawn a dagger from his boot. If I had stepped any closer, the dagger would have pierced my ankle.
“Your strength is growing,” he says. “But if I were a real enemy you would have been dead after your first lunge. You cannot just lash out without protecting yourself. And you must pay more attention to your side vision.”
“I can’t.” I drop to my knees and lay aside my sword, suddenly tired. “The mask cuts off my side vision.”
All of a sudden there are sounds of swords being drawn and a guard is yelling from the garden wall, “Protect the princess!”
Patric leaps up and seizes my arm. He jerks me to my feet and drags me behind the statue of my mother.
“Kneel down,” he says. I do what he says and Patric leans over me, shielding me from view.
“What is happening? Is someone out there?”
“If so, they won’t be there long enough to get close to you.”
My vision is obscured by the statue, but I hear the sound of horses galloping and guards yelling. Several minutes go by. My heart hammers in my ears, and dew from the wet grass seeps through my dress.
“What is happening?” I repeat.
“I don’t know, perhaps nothing. The guards have been testy lately.” After a few more minutes Patric crouches down behind me. I feel his heartbeat thudding against my back as he leans close and whispers, “The guards have been forbidden to tell you or Andrei this, but things aren’t going well for your father. A potential war with Kyrenica is not his only problem. The people in the villages are unhappy because food is expensive and wages are low.” He pauses and adds, “Anger and hunger are a dangerous combination. Add in a little fear and it’s a breeding ground for evil and unrest. And murder is the easiest way to separate the House of Andewyn from a crown they have claimed for centuries.” He pauses. “This is why we have been ordered to train you and Andrei.”
I look down, touched that he actually told me the truth, yet sobered by his words. We are both quiet for several more minutes until a guard calls out, “All clear!”
Patric helps me to my feet, and I brush grass from my dress. I move to step out from behind the statue, but he pulls me back.
“Wait.” He stares at me, his green eyes roaming over my mask.
“Yes?” I say, very much aware that we are hidden from view.
He raises a hand, and for one horrific moment I think he intends to cover his eyes. Instead he traces a finger down the side of my mask. He leans closer until our lips are nearly touching. But then he sighs and pulls back. “Come on,” he says, “we still need to practice.”
I nod, thankful that the mask covers my disappointment.
He picks up my sword and holds it out to me, the look in his eyes grim. “You need to concentrate better. One day, these lessons may save your life.”
CHAPTER 9
ELARA
A carriage leaving Tulan at daybreak can reach Allegria just before nightfall if the horses are strong. But between the Ogdens’ overloaded coach and their half-starved horses, it takes us two and a half days, most of which I spend squashed in between two trunks of Serena’s dresses—two of the many she just had to bring to Allegria. By the beginning of the third day I’m ready to explode.
“Serena, couldn’t you have brought just a few less trunks?” I rub my sore side. “There would be more than enough room then.”
“I’ve told you this several times,” Serena says. “I don’t know what the girls in Allegria will be wearing, so I can’t possibly know what dresses I will need until we get there.”
Mistress Ogden, who has spent most of the last two days dozing and complaining of a headache, now opens her eyes long enough to say, “Right you are, Serena.” She looks at me. “If you don’t like it, you can get out and walk.”
“What’s the matter?” Cordon says when I call out to him to stop the carriage. Mistress Ogden hired Cordon to accompany us to Allegria and serve as our coachman, thereby leaving Mister Ogden free to drink himself into a stupor.
“I’m walking the rest of the way,” I say, climbing out. “We’re almost there anyway.”
Next to Cordon, Mister Ogden is passed out and drooling. Cordon urges the horses onward. “Just don’t fall too far behind,” he says.
While I walk, I think through my plan. Somehow, I have to find a way to elude the Ogdens long enough to visit the prison and find out if Mister Travers is being held there. We’re staying in Allegria for a week, so it should be an easy enough thing to do. I’ll make up an excuse, or get myself sent on an errand. More difficult, is what I’ll say to Mister Travers if I manage to find him. Tucked between two of Serena’s trunks is a satchel I filled with the book from Mister Travers, my dagger, and the four worthings I picked up from the floor of the Draughts. I’m hoping the worthings will make a suitable bribe for the guards at the prison.
But I’m smart enough to know I have to have a backup plan. What if I actually do manage to find Mister Travers and discover he is nothing more than a crazy old man?