Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading and to Sunflowerfran for editing. All mistakes are my own.
Chapter 2
The blowing of the trumpet startles me, and my hand to flies to my chest, my racing heart thumping below my palm. As the doors open, I take a deep breath to calm myself and lower my hand as I raise my head.
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella of Adwen, House of Swan."
I look straight ahead to my father, seated on his throne. When I reach him, I do as expected and curtsy. It is deep and with a flourish, just as he prefers in front of an audience. I keep my head held high and focused on my destination as I walk toward the head table. As I approach, I notice several of our guests are seated there as well. Their gruff appearance is similar to the guards who have been stationed throughout the castle since they laid siege to us. These men are no less intimidating. With my eyes now downcast, I take my seat at the long head table, next to Bree.
"Did you not get the request from Father about tonight being a special night? Honestly, Isabella, is that the best gown you have? Surely Father has bought you finer things than that."
Trying to ignore the presence of the men seated nearby while not letting her comments bother me, I take a deep breath. "Yes, I'm sure I have something finer, but this is what I find most comfortable."
"Well, you'll never get a husband if you insist on dressing like a peasant." She sips from her goblet, her eyes focused on the other guests.
Her flippant remark only sparks my irritation, and I quickly offer a retort. "Perhaps I do not wish for a husband who is concerned with what frock I happen to be wearing. If he is worried over the finery I wear, instead of matters of state, perhaps he would be better suited to spending time with a stable boy instead of a wife." The deep chuckle to my right grabs my attention, and I turn to find who has the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversation.
The man's close proximity is shocking as he observes me, and I regard him in return. Seated alongside his countrymen, they form quite a formidable looking bunch. I take them in as a group and realize they are the six men I watched return to their camp last night. They are all large; tall with broad shoulders, bearded, and all but one has dark hair. They are all dressed in heavy furs and leathers, the same strange clothing I have seen on the unfamiliar guards. I question if perhaps they are only warriors, but if they were, they would not be seated at my father's table. Their mere presence is enough to tell me these men are important, and I should tread carefully and respectfully.
The one with a spark of amusement on his face is seated closest to me, in the chair beside mine. He is quite handsome. His dark, riotous hair, is bronze in color in this low light, and his heavy beard seems to be hiding a mischievous smile. His bright jade green eyes are dancing with mirth.
I feel I must make up for my unladylike comment. "I beg your pardon, My Lord. I did not know my sister, and I had an audience. Please forgive me for exposing you to my vile tongue."
"No, no. Do not apologize on my behalf. I, for one, enjoy hearing what is on the mind of a maiden. And a princess at that. Please do not stop on my account." The brightness of his eyes and the turned-up corner of his mouth cause me to smile. I quickly look down, hoping he will not see. "Do not worry, I will tell no one of your vile tongue as you called it. Your secret is safe with me."
"Thank you, My Lord," I say softly.
Just then, the food is brought to the table. The mead and ale are soon being poured, and it doesn't take long for the revelry to begin. When my father chooses this moment to stand and make a toast, the room quiets.
"I would like to formally welcome our guests from the north, from the Kingdom of Galon. His Royal Highness, Prince Edward Cullen of Galon, Lord Emmett McCarty, Lord Jasper Whitlock, Sir Garrett Charles, Sir Alec Smith, and Sir Michael Newton, welcome to Adwen. May peace and long life bless us all." As cheers sound around him, my father downs his entire goblet in one swallow and asks for more. I have never seen him so seemingly distressed.
It is then I realize the weight of my father's words. These men are from Galon; their army is known for raiding villages and claiming entire territories for their own. I have to wonder why their attack last night did not end with my father dead and Adwen under their control. What agreement have they reached?
While Jane is busy flaunting herself at any man that will look her way, Bree appears as nervous as I feel. "You do not think he would, do you?" she whispers.
"If it means keeping the kingdom and its people safe, I am sure he already has. It is our duty, sister. If not Galon, then it would be another kingdom. We should be glad the opportunity has been brought to us. Father has been unable to make an alliance with anyone else." I turn to look into her eyes. "Do you not see? This is exactly what our people need. A marriage with one of us will mean protection for our people, Bree. Tell me you do not wish for that."
"But I do not wish to leave Adwen. This is my home."
Even though I feel much the same, I do my best to smile. "We mustn't worry, sister. As the oldest, I am sure Jane would be best suited. Did you not notice how the men are all older? Surely, they would want Jane over us. She carries herself regally as a princess should."
She sniffs and straightens her back before reaching for her cup with a trembling hand. "Well, we certainly know you do not carry yourself as a princess." She turns to me, her worry barely concealed behind the false confidence in her eyes. "I only hope you are right. I have no wish to leave my home for a land such as Galon," she spits, as if the name of the kingdom tastes bad on her tongue.
Belying her show of tenacity, her trembling hand reaches for mine under the table and squeezes. I know she is worried; I am as well.
Looking over the group, I have to wonder which one is the prince. They are all dressed similarly, none better than the rest. At first glance, they look menacing, rough. But upon closer inspection, they are all relatively neat and clean, considering they have been living in tents in the middle of a field for many days. The rumors of the Galon warriors tell of dirty savages, without any regard for anyone else. These men appear nothing like the stories would have me believe. It makes me wonder if the other rumors are true.
The sounds of the harp, lute, and other instruments interrupt my thoughts, and I notice the floor is already full of lords and ladies stepping to the music. I know dancing will be expected of me tonight, which is why I asked Angela to retrieve my padded slippers. Jane is the first to be asked, and it is by one of our guests. He is tall, but thinner than the rest, and unlike the others, he has light hair. He has a pleasant smile and guides my sister around the floor with ease and grace.
Bree and I are approached by the largest of the group. He has short, almost black hair. His smile is infectious, with a set of dimples peeking just above the edge of his beard that make him slightly less intimidating.
He bows as he reaches us. "Your Royal Highnesses, allow me to introduce myself. Lord Emmett McCarty, of Galon. Would one of you lovely ladies give me the honor of this dance?"
Bree's eyes are wide, and some of the color drains from her cheeks. She looks terrified. I turn toward the man asking for a dance and make the decision for her. "The honor would be all mine, Lord McCarty."
He takes my hand and escorts me to the dance floor. For a large man as he is surprisingly graceful. And talkative. I find out he is wed, and has a wife and young daughter, Emily, at home. His proud smile as he speaks of the girl tells me she is precious to him. Many men dismiss their daughters, being only mildly interested in their sons, for the single reason that they are heirs. It is refreshing to hear a man speak of his daughter as if she is a treasure. Perhaps my sister will have a pleasant life there, after all.
"I beg your pardon, My Lord, but what is your connection to the house of Cullen?"
"Ah, you see, Queen Esme is my aunt. My mother's sister. And our king is uncle to Lord Jasper as well."
"So, the prince is your cousin?"
"Indeed, My Lady. The rest of our friends here tonight are high ranking knights. We came to offer your king lasting peace, if he will agree to our terms."
"He would be most foolish to refuse you, I would think. If the rumors are true, you always get what you want, do you not?"
"Ah, a lady with a sharp mind and tongue to match. My Rosalie would love you." He laughs as he spins us around the dance floor. As the music comes to a close, Lord Emmett bows once again, this time placing a kiss on my knuckles. "It was an absolute pleasure, Your Highness. Until we meet again." As he begins to walk me back to the table, I am asked for a dance by another of his group.
"Lady Isabella, may I introduce Sir Alec Smith."
Momentarily distracted by the nearby, looming figure of my father's trusted knight, Sir Jacob Black and the menacing scowl on his face, I quickly collect myself, focusing my attention on the man before me.
I reach out my hand for the proper greeting, and as he takes it, he gives a slight bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. May I have the next dance?"
"Of course." And so my evening goes.
I am spun around the dance floor by every member of our visiting group, save one—the man that overheard my conversation with Bree. He has so far only observed the revelry around him. His gaze is intense, as though he can see my very soul. He swirls the liquid in his goblet, still with his eyes locked on mine as he drinks. It is disconcerting, to say the least, and I cannot help but look away.
I occasionally catch glimpses of Jacob as well. He seems to have been held at bay by my father's men. At one point, I can see him speaking to my father, who denies whatever his request is with a shake of his head. When he leaves my father's side and approaches the man who has been observing me all night, I watch with rapt attention. The stranger stands at his full height and towers over Jacob, his arms crossed in an intimidating pose.
Their conversation seems to be heated, the man's hand moving to the hilt of his sword at one point. Gasping, I turn my head, not knowing if I want to see how this exchange ends. Trying to focus on the words of my partner, it isn't until Jacob appears passing my peripheral vision that I realize the dispute is over. Breathing a sigh of relief, I can return my focus to dancing.
My sisters have both been asked by our guests to dance as well. Jane is doing her best to entice the men she is paired with. She tries so very hard, but possibly too hard, to find a suitable husband.
I almost pity her.
As the evening begins to gradually draw to an end, I notice the man who I have deduced must be the prince, speaking quietly with my father. I can only assume they are making informal plans for the betrothal. Both my father and the prince are looking in my direction, though, and I am suddenly uneasy. I look away, feeling my face heat in a childish blush. Deciding I have had enough for the evening, I bid both my sisters a good night and take my leave.
Angela assists me in undressing as she asks question after question about the events of the evening. I mumble the answers, but still feel as though I am in a daze of some kind.
"Was Jacob there? Did he ask you to dance?" She is standing behind me, brushing my hair.
"No." Mention of Jacob causes me to reflexively shake my head. "I mean, he was there, in the room, but did not ask me to dance."
She stops her ministrations and places my brush on my dressing table. "Oh," she replies, seemingly disappointed.
I, on the other hand, am relieved. I am not sure I could have dealt with any added drama tonight.
Before she can ask me any additional questions, a knock on the door interrupts our conversation.
"Enter."
A servant is carrying a tray, which contains a sealed note addressed to me.
"For you, My Lady." She holds the tray out for me and curtsies as I pick up the missive.
"Thank you." I turn it over in my hands and run my fingertips over the seal. The blood-red wax is pressed with the image of a lion's head, the official seal of Galon. My heart begins to race, and I am suddenly nervous over its contents. Something tells me I should read it without prying eyes nearby, no matter how friendly they may be. My own eyes never leave the folded paper in my hand as I speak, my head tilting just enough to call over my shoulder. "Angela, if we are done, could you please take your leave?"
"Of course, My Lady. Please let me know if you require anything else."
I nod in response. Once she's on the other side of my door, I break the seal and unfold the parchment.
Princess Isabella,
I hope you will do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow for the midday meal. I would like to escort you on a chaperoned horseback ride to the countryside. I have a very delicate matter to speak with you about, and privacy is of the utmost importance. After we have discussed what is necessary, if you so desire, you may choose to take your leave. We will have escorts waiting to do so if that is your wish.
I am looking forward to tomorrow with great anticipation.
Yours,
Edward, Prince of Galon, House of Cullen
My hands fall to my sides, and the letter slips from my fingers, fluttering to the floor. Why does he wish to see me? This can only mean one thing. He must intend to wed me. I thought the duty of marrying for our country would fall to Jane. I felt, as the youngest, I would not have that same responsibility, that I could have more of a choice in who I wed. But it seems it is now out of my hands.
At least the men I met tonight were of good character. They all seemed respectful. Perhaps all but Sir Alec. He seemed just a bit aggressive. But the others, they spoke of their home with fondness and their women with adoration. Perhaps it is not a savage place at all.
I shake my head to clear it. Without giving it too much thought, I quickly write a brief missive accepting Prince Edward's invitation. I call for a servant to see to its delivery, and with both trepidation and anticipation, I hand it over. Nervousness roils through me as I consider what this all means. But it will do me no good to dwell on things this night. I know I must rest so that tomorrow I am able to keep my emotions in check. I crawl into my bed and close my eyes. It takes a while for sleep to claim me, and when it does, it is a restless slumber.
Morning comes too soon, and I am once again being brushed, braided, cinched, dressed, and fluffed. Angela is quiet as she assists me. No doubt that by now she has heard the rumors.
When midday is upon us, a guard knocks to let me know it is time to go. "My Lady ..." She pauses as if she is unsure of what to say.
"It is fine, Angela. It is only a meal and chaperoned at that. You will be accompanying me as well, so I know everything will be fine," I repeat, sounding more and more as if I am attempting to reassure myself. Embracing her, I hold on to her tightly. She is my dearest friend in my life of solitude, even if it may not be proper. She is more a sister to me than those I have by blood.
Even with a guard and my handmaiden accompanying me, walking out of the castle should feel liberating. I have not been let out of doors in nearly a fortnight. But, this day, it feels as though I am being led to the gallows. Just before we reach the stables, I see the man I believe to be Prince Edward waiting for us.
"Thank you, Eric, for escorting Her Highness this far. I will escort her the rest of the way."
Eric bows and turns to leave, and I cannot help but watch him. When his form disappears from sight, the man I've been left with clears his throat, causing me to turn toward him.
"It seems we were never properly introduced. Please allow me to rectify that." Reaching out his hand, he takes mine, so carefully, it is as if he is holding a delicate butterfly. "Edward of Galon, at your service, My Lady." Bowing, he brings my knuckles to his lips, placing the softest of kisses upon them.
My heart is pounding away in my chest as I look into his eyes; eyes as green as the far-off fields in spring. The care he seems to be taking with me is in sharp contrast to his rough exterior.
"Lady Isabella," I reply in no more than a whisper.
"My Lady? Are you well?"
I drop my gaze, embarrassed by my inability to respond as I should have. He bends and catches my eyes, offering me the hint of a smile. His expression conveys his concern, yet he appears hopeful as well.
"Yes, My Lord, I am well. Please forgive me. I am just a bit nervous about our afternoon." I reluctantly remove my hand from his grasp.
He nods as if to agree with me. "Yes, well, it is only a meal. We do need to speak about a few matters, but it is nothing to worry over."
I cannot stop the small laugh that escapes my lips. I quickly try to recover and cover my mouth. "I beg your pardon, My Lord. I seem to act inappropriately when I am nervous." Once again, I feel my face heat.
He reaches out with a single finger and traces my cheek, ever so slightly. "If this is what happens when you are nervous, then I plan to make it a habit, my dear. Come, we must be off." He extends his arm for me and leads me to the stables.
A/N: Short and sweet note this week. Still recovering from TFMU. ;) I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things and actually reply to reviews this week, but I'm not guaranteeing it. Like I said, I'm still recovering. Lol
And now time for some recs!
Do Not Go Gentle by aspire2write is a difficult read, dealing with human trafficking, but it's a great story. The sequel is nearly complete too, so if you enjoy DNGG, check it out too.
Uprising by the great pattyrose is one of my favorite WIPs right now. I adore period fics, and this Colonialward has already earned a spot near the top of my fave list.
For weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon!
Lots of love
~Sunshine