“Holding your breath?” She studied me a moment before shaking her head. “Well, whatever gets the job done, just keep it up. It’s working.”
I shook my head and sighed. “But for how long?”
“For however long it takes.” She hooked her arm through mine and faced us toward the door. “Now, let us depart, dear brother. We have a royal meal to attend, one you’ll actually eat tonight.”
Grumbling under my breath, I escorted her out the door. All the while, I wondered how long I really would have to keep the rouse up. We were eight days in now, and it already felt like more than I could stand.
I honestly wasn’t sure if I had the constitution to endure this much longer.
Chapter 13
Vienne
After Caulder declared that Brentley and Allera’s wedding would take place in four days’ time, the kingdom turned to planning the royal affair.
Meanwhile, I grew so heavy and awkward with pregnancy that every time I tried to help, someone would merely usher me to a chair so I could sit out of the way.
It was as humiliating as it was relieving. My ankles were so swollen it actually hurt to stand on them. Yet I craved involvement.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” I nearly begged when the latest person—Allera—shooed me into a big, comfortable settee in the corner of the ballroom, where the reception after the wedding would take place.
“Yes, you can sit there and take a nap for me,” she instructed sternly.
I rolled my eyes. “Take your own nap.” My answer was as moody and insolent as I felt. “I want to do something.”
When Allera opened her mouth, no doubt to dash all my hopes and dreams, I rushed to add, “Certainly there’s something I can do from this chair. Address announcements? Work out a seating chart? Anything?”
The bride-to-be started to shake her head, only to pause when her brain finally digested my offer. “Actually, yes, that’s a brilliant idea. I hate letter-writing. And the idea of writing the same announcement, draft after draft, was giving me a headache. Would you mind terribly taking over the task?”
“Not at all,” I said, since it’d been my idea in the first place. “I’d be delighted.”
“Oh, good. I’ll just run and fetch you the box I have all the parchment in, and—Drat!” she muttered, her gaze catching on the four men carrying a table into the room and setting it down. “That wasn’t where I wanted them to put the refreshment buffet. Gentlemen,” she called, waving to get their attention as she stared away, only to stop and remember she’d been talking to me. “Right. I need to get you the…”
Her words trailed off as she scowled around the room before she spotted something that made her eyes light.
“Urban!” she called, motioning toward her brother across the room where he stood on a ladder, hanging the royal wedding banner with Brentley. When he paused what he was doing to glance her way, she cupped her hands around her mouth. “Could you fetch the box of stationary off my bed in my chambers? Please and thank you.”
He only seemed to scowl at her, so she stamped her foot and shouted, “Now!”
I could practically feel him roll his eyes. “Yes, dear heart,” he called back, the sarcasm in his voice thick.
Allera muttered a dirty word about him under her breath, only to race off in the direction of the servants carrying the table, nearly plowing over Nicolette who was decorating an urn full of flowers, in the process.
The High Cliff prince said something to Brentley that made the Donnelly prince laugh, and then he slowly started to climb his way down the ladder.
I’m not sure why I watched him make his descent. Maybe it was because it was his errand I was waiting for him to complete before I could get started on my own duties, but it probably had more do with the fine figure he cut. From the back, he was flawlessly proportioned, his shoulders wide, hips slim, and his backside tight and sloped to perfection. He didn’t look any worse from the front, but it was easier to look at him when his back was turned… Or when he was out training with the soldiers.
I wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing that, but I’d been up in the East Salon last week and caught a commotion going on down in the training bailey.
Three men were taking on a single form. The single swordsman had been so talented I’d found myself wandering closer to the clear rock to watch him in action. He had moved like liquid art, every swing and leap flowing gracefully as if the sword were a natural extension of his arm.
When I realized who I’d been watching, I gasped and drew back a step, only for him to look up at the very window I’d been standing in as if he’d heard me, which was impossible.
We’d been so far away from each other, I was unable to see what the expression on his face had been, but his stare had rattled me.
Every day since, I caught him down there with the soldiers. Sometimes he seemed to be giving them tips, sometimes he was in the thick of the action, sparring, and sometimes he checked on the wounded who’d gotten hurt in a fray. But he was always a majestic sight to behold.
As he stepped off the ladder, he looked over his shoulder in my direction, and I quickly turned my attention away, diverting it to where Allera was showing the servants precisely where she wanted the buffet table to sit.
When I dared to glance back toward the ladder, the prince was gone. I felt warm and embarrassed for watching him so much. But Nicolette had been right that first day; Prince Urban was just about one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. It was hard not to appreciate such a magnificent sight.
Allera suddenly returned to me, breathless and laughing. Her appearance made me jump and clear my throat, though I’m sure there was no way she could guess I’d been ogling her brother.
“Goodness.” She pressed a hand to her heart and blew out a vigorous breath. “I never realized there was so much that went into planning a wedding. With my first one, we simply ran off and married in secret the day after we met. But this is kind of invigorating.” Laughing again, she grinned at me. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. You’re going to help me with announcements, and Urban’s fetching the parchment and ink. Good.” She paused suddenly and frowned at Nicolette. “Do you think it would be rude of me to ask her to be my attendant at the ceremony?”
Her sudden shift in topic made me blink. “Nicolette?” I asked. “Not at all. I think she’d be honored to have the task.”
Her brow continued to pinch with concern. “Yes, but would Yasmin be insulted that I didn’t ask her?” Rolling her eyes, she leaned closer. “I’m sorry, I know she’s the queen and your sister and all, but she’s just not to my taste. And I can’t readily ask you; you can barely walk—or more aptly, waddle—these days without wincing through every step.”
I opened my mouth, not sure how to even respond, when Allera brightened, totally forgetting what we’d been discussing. “Oh! There’s Urban with my stationary. Good. It’s about time.”
As she clapped and waved him forward, I shook my head. Bridal fever had hit her hard. She was going full bore, micro managing everything and worrying about even more. It was actually endearing to watch, because to me, it meant she wanted her marriage to Brentley to be a success.
“What took you so long?” she demanded. “Did you get the ink and quill as well?” Snagging the box from Prince Urban’s hands, she peered inside for herself. “Oh good. You did.” She started to turn away, ignoring him.
In return, he quirked a single eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”
Allera didn’t even hear him as she kept digging through the box to make sure she had everything she wanted.
I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. The prince’s attention veered to me.
Embarrassed to be caught grinning over his quip, I quickly looked away, but when I turned my attention back to him, he’d already turned away himself. A little disappointed in myself that I’d been too much of a coward to try to share a simple smile with the man, I watched him stalk toward an
other chair and then bend down to fetch a small ottoman next to it.
When he returned to us, the footstool in his arms, I gaped in shock as he set it directly before me to rest my feet on. I lifted my gaze from the stool, but he’d already straightened and swung away, walking off without saying a single word.
Beside me, Allera chattered on about what I needed to write in the announcements and where to find the list of people they were to be sent to. Suddenly, she paused. “What’s wrong? Do you not think we should send an announcement to Far Shore?”
“What? Oh, no,” I said, flushing. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that at all.” My stare wandered back toward her brother who was climbing the ladder again to assist Brentley.
Allera followed my gaze slowly, only to whip her attention back to me, her eyes wide.
Feeling caught, I flushed and blustered with the need to say something to distract her from my ogling ways. “Your brother’s quite an enigma, isn’t he?”
“Urban?” Allera asked in a high, worried voice. “What makes you say that? I’ve always found him to be one of the most forthright and open people I’ve ever known.”
“I…” Realizing I didn’t have a ready answer for my assumption, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I said that. I guess I just haven’t had much contact with him yet to form a valid opinion. I… Huh. Actually, I don’t believe we’ve spoken together at all since you two arrived. Not even once.”
How curious.
Allera nodded, almost humbly, and set the box of stationary on my lap, before she began to turn away without comment, which was all so very unlike her. Especially today. It made me want to keep addressing the subject because it left me even more intrigued.
“It’s just…” I lifted my voice, making her pause and turn back, her eyebrows raised. Leveling my tone back to normal, I said, “I get the strange sense he avoids me on purpose.”
“I…” Something wide-eyed and almost panicked entered Allera’s expression before she shook her head and sent me a puzzled look. “I don’t… I mean…”
“Of course, I’m probably only imagining it,” I rushed to add, feeling as if I’d misspoken. “It’s just that I’ve seen him speak with everyone, even Soren and Yasmin, but I don’t think he’s ever said a single word directly to me. It made me wonder if he didn’t like me for some reason. But then he brought me that stool to rest my feet on just now without any kind of prompting, which I found to be uncommonly kind, and now I worry that he and I have never spoken because I’m the discourteous one who never approached him.” I bit my lip, glancing after the puzzling prince. “Have I been terribly rude and unwelcoming?”
“What? Oh, no. No, of course not!” Allera laughed as she covered my hands I didn’t realize I had started to wring. “I promise you, my sweet Vienne, he doesn’t dislike you. And you’ve been a bit preoccupied, preparing for your first child’s birth to worry about other new arrivals to the castle. Urban hasn’t expected anything from you at all. I swear it.”
I nodded, even though something told me more was going on with him than I thought.
As if sensing my unsettled thoughts, Allera admitted, “He… Urban hasn’t entirely been himself lately, either.” After an uneasy pause, she lifted her face from our connected hands and looked into my eyes. “You’re aware he met his one true love recently, right?”
I nodded. “Yes, of course. I remember him telling Nicolette on the first night you two arrived. He said she was already married to someone else, if I recall.”
Allera smiled softly. “That’s right. She’s not…available to him, which has taken quite a toll, I’m afraid. He’s still not sure how to deal with the fact that he can’t be with her. So… Any moodiness or standoffish behavior he has exhibited as of late is no fault of yours, I assure you. He’s just dealing with an inner battle at the moment that is far different from any other he’s experienced before.”
I gazed toward the prince, my heart going out to him. And I actually felt a little guilty for doing nothing but appreciate his fine appearance from afar when all the while he’d been going through… Well, whatever misery he was going through.
“I should speak with him more,” I decided. Surely pleasant contact with others would help soothe whatever troubled his soul. “Make him feel included.”
Except Allera cried, “No!” with such passion that I snapped a startled blink her way.
She flushed and pressed her fingers to her lips before pulling her hand away and saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forceful. I just… Urban doesn’t really work that way. I think it’s best if he dealt with his…his misery in his own way, without anyone bringing attention to it.”
I nodded, respecting her wishes since she certainly knew him better than I did. “Do you think he’s suffering much without her?” I had to ask, though.
My friend lifted her eyes and looked at me directly before admitting, “Yes.” She said it baldly enough to shock me. “I think he’s suffering a great deal without her. She’s an incredible, kind-hearted woman. And he knows it.”
Chapter 14
Urban
On the eve before Allera and Brentley’s wedding, celebrations had already started at the castle. All the king’s important council members, dignitaries, emissaries, and their families, plus Soren’s three oldest offspring—ranging in age from six to nine—came to feast with us in the dining hall.
I wasn’t a fan of the extra crowd, the boisterous noise, and rowdy cheers that went up. The few people I was used to interacting with—either Allera, Brentley, or Nicolette—were all busy. Brentley was escorting Allera around the room to introduce her to everyone while Nicolette led some kind of chasing game with Soren’s children.
Feeling as separated from everyone else as I’d ever felt, I made my way out of the keep to check in on the soldiers who’d become my friends in the back bailey.
They had a low campfire burning, and about half a dozen of them were sitting around it talking when I strolled up.
“Hey, if it isn’t the high and mighty prince in his preppy pants come to visit,” one called in teasing welcome. “What? Are you already tired of all the big important nobles flooding into the castle to celebrate the fancy wedding tomorrow?”
“Something like that,” I murmured, taking a seat among them and picking up a twig on the ground lying between my feet so I could break it in half and toss it into the flames.
“Well, we were about to head off toward the tavern for some ale and women, if you wanted to join us.”
I glanced up. The ale would be welcome, but the women… I found myself shaking my head before I’d even thought my answer through. Tavern life didn’t feel like the place I belonged either.
“Maybe some other night,” I said, not really meaning it. A part of me knew I’d never go back to wenching and drinking with the guys again.
They ribbed me a little for bowing out, then stood and went on their way to get drunk in the arms of strangers they’d probably forget by morning.
I sighed and glanced up at the stars.
Was this my future, then? Not feeling as if I fit anywhere?
Pushing to my feet, I kicked at the fire until it was nothing but embers, and I returned to the keep, where I dragged myself up to my room. Alone.
Vienne had been in her usual seat tonight, two chairs down from the king’s right. She hadn’t seemed as if she had much of anyone to talk to either. The queen had been milling throughout the crowds, mingling with anyone willing to pay her attention, and Soren had been huddled up with a group of council-looking men, discussing who-knew-what.
I ached to just go sit by her and ask her about her day. She had rubbed her stomach a lot throughout the evening, more so than usual. And her face looked slightly swollen. I swear, she winced in pain once. I wondered if anyone had asked her if she was feeling okay.
If she didn’t feel well, I hoped she turned in early too, just as I was doing, and took care of herself. She needed the repose since she ha
dn’t been taking her morning naps in the East Salon since the castle had turned to wedding preparations. I didn’t want her falling ill due to exhaustion.
When I entered my own room, I stripped from my meal attire and put on something comfortable to lounge in but more than I typically slept in. For some reason, I thought Allera might visit, maybe share some pre-wedding jitters with me or maybe just talk about her first husband. I flopped onto my back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling of my room, waiting. With the back of my wrist covering my brow, I remembered back to the days at High Cliff, right after she’d first met Jazon.
We’d been quite a team, the three of us, scouring the countryside as if it were our own personal domain. When Jazon and I had gone off to war, I should’ve known everything would change. But like some kind of damned ignorant fool, I hadn’t even had a clue.
When I slipped off to sleep, it wasn’t any wonder that I dreamed about him, remembering the night he died. I was still clutching his shirtfront, begging him to stay alive when I was ripped from my dream by an intense heat slashing across my abdomen.
I jerked awake, sitting upright with a gasp. Sweat rained down my brow and coated my face, soaking the tunic I was wearing. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt late, like the middle of the night. There was no muffled music coming from below, which meant the wedding eve celebration had definitely died down.
Patting my belly, I frowned at my abdomen in confusion when I realized nothing was wrong with it, only for white hot coals of pain to spear through me again, immediately followed by a painful gong of awareness through my temple, right where my mark tingled.
“Oh God, no!” I gasped, finally realizing what was happening.
Vienne.
She was in pain.
Great pain.
Without thinking, I flew out of bed and dashed toward the door. I was halfway down the hall before I stopped myself and decided I couldn’t go to her in the middle of the night by myself. I had to… I just needed a reason to…