Page 23 of The Crimson Princess
“We are.”
His words are pure steel and crankiness, which, even for him, strikes me as quite extreme. “He did nothing to invite further ire?”
“Not yet,” he states, “but I’m sure he will. And your mother would not approve.”
And there it is. He’s heard from my father, who all but told me to seduce the druid prince. “I do not approve,” I assure Mikhail. “And as was the case with my mother, I have a strong will.”
“Do not bend, princess.”
Do not bend.
There is a message in those words that reeks of secrets and lies, and I’m reminded that my father all but told me he was whoring me off to Prince Bellar. He underestimates the druids, and me, if he believes that’s his golden ticket to peace.
Chapter twelve
It’swithsupremeeffortthat I resist the urge to press Mikhail for information, all too aware that he’s risked my father’s wrath with his discreet warning.
Instead, I offer a simple nod of appreciation and understanding, and walk away, but I wish beyond the stars I knew exactly what my father said to Mikhail. What is Bellar after and what does it have to do with me? Unease dances to its own rhythm along my nerve endings, my pace rapid with readiness to get this meeting over with. Soon, I’ve reached my destination where I find Bellar, sitting at the table we’d dined at last night. The instant he spies me, he pushes to his feet, his impressive height and stature on display, and of course, he’s wearing the pale gray jacket representing the druid military. No wonder Mikhail was agitated. It’s the color the druids wore when at war with the gales and we lost far too many to even count.
Magic burns my fingertips with such intensity that I glance down and almost expect flames to burst from my skin, but there is nothing there, not even a blush to my skin.I’m still going through the change, I think, and that means this meeting is poorly timed, as my magic is far from stable. Any emotion the druid prince stirs in me, might trigger who knows what reaction.
I halt on the opposite side of the table from Bellar.
“Princess,” he greets, and until this moment I do not believe I’ve ever noticed how strikingly gray his eyes are, with a halo of teal glowing from within. The halo is his magic, I realize, and I do believe he only allows it to show when he wishes it to be visible.
And he’s chosen to show me.
Or perhaps he sees no reason to hide it. I’ve touched it, felt it. I know what he is and what powerful magic he wields should he so choose to go to war with us, withme.
“Hello, Prince Bellar,” I say, managing to sound far cooler than I feel. The burn in my fingers has flared once again and it’s driving me crazy. I curl them into my palms, low and by my sides, applying pressure that somehow eases the sensation but just barely. “Can we move to a quieter place?” I inquire. “There’s a smaller table deeper in the garden. We can speak more freely there, without intrusion.”
Curiosity flares within the depths of his stare, but he remains seemingly at ease, offering a cordial reply of, “I’d like that,” and nothing more.
Esmerelda, one of my father’s maidens appears, her brunette hair silk, her body curvy, her presence in my father’s bed, almost irrefutable. Also irrefutable is her loyalty to him and her presence now tells me she fully intended to listen in on our meeting. Pity for her and my father, as the change of location I’ve planned will render her ability to spy on us impossible.
“We’ll be moving to the Sapphire Corner,” I announce, pleased to deliver the blow to any plan at deception she might harbor. “If you can please, have our pastries and coffee brought there?”
There’s a flicker of panic in her eyes, no doubt her anticipation of explaining my actions to my father, but she dips her chin and murmurs, “Yes, princess,” before hurrying away.
“We evidently didn’t please her,” Bellar comments dryly.
I, in turn,don’t comment. The two of us are not a “we” nor do we stand together against my father’s intrusions. I start walking and Bellar falls into step beside me, neither of us speaking until we are in a private corner of the garden, and seated at a small round table encased in tight ivy-covered walls. We’ve barely claimed the intimate seating directly across from us, before we have glass cups of steaming coffee in front of us, the scent of both vanilla and chocolate lifting in the air. Next comes a basket of delicate flaky pastries.
It’s a few minutes before I’m alone with Bellar, and we can do more than comment on the deliciousness of what we’ve been served. I lift my cup only to cringe as it trembles in my hand. Frustrated, I set the cup down and hold up my hands. “That has nothing to do with you.”
He studies me several beats and says, “Your magic is unstable, but it wasn’t last night.” His eyes narrow. “The change. You’re late for the change.” He scrubs his jaw. “Holy fuck. You were already more powerful than I ever expected.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “And you hadn’t been through the change yet?”
I rub my arms that are now the part of my body on fire, while the rest of me is like ice. “It appears grief shocked me enough to create a delay.”
“Incredible. The rumors of your mother must be true.”
I’ve heard these rumors. Of course, I have; that she was more powerful than my father. That her parents were somehow connected to our original creators, and that her gifts from the river turned her into something no one would ever understand.
“I asked my mother about them once,” I dare say.
“And what did she say?”
“She told me no living being was more powerful than my father,” I say, but it’s a lie. The lie she told me to tell. The truth is, she told me that she would never know the truth of what she was, or where she came from, but no one must ever believe they were more powerful than the ruler of Ravengale. For that would lead to confrontation and our demise.
