Page 9 of The Huntsman's Heart
A servant hurries in with his cane, and the prince quickly retires to a position in the crowd, watching from afar, thwarting my plans.
The duke lifts me and spins me around, placing me nimbly back into position in front of him and facing away from the prince. “Daylight ends so soon at this time of year at Blackthorn,” he says with a sniff. “Do you find many indoor pursuits to entertain you in winter?”
I can spot a veiled insult a mile away, but since I’ve no desire for their good opinion I brush it off. “Why let a little cold and dark stop me from being outdoors?” I say lightly, turning into the next movement. “I am without as much as possible; I love hunting and riding. I prefer to muck out my horse’s stable myself and see to his grooming.”
The duke’s brows shoot up. “Indeed? How quaint.”
The dance requires that we change partners, and I hold my hand out for Baron Erberhart who is dancing with Melantha. He lifts and turns me, and the duke’s attention is shifted to his new partner. Over the head of the baron I spot the prince, looking pale and winded.
I shake my head, wondering what possessed my stepmother to think I would agree to marry such an old man.
I’m jerked from my bitter thoughts by Melantha herself, whose sour face crosses my field of vision. She steps closer than the dance allows for, breaking step to lean in. “What on earth did your maid put in your bathwater, Guinny?”
My cheeks heat and I barely manage to keep the smile on my face at her use of the nickname my father gave me when I was small. I hate when she calls me that. “Nothing, just some butter to soften my skin,” I lie.
Her frown deepens, though her face hardly moves at all. “And what’s this rubbish about hunting and mucking out stalls? Are you trying to sabotage this match?”
I give her a blank look as I’m whirled back into the duke’s arms, and I shrug my shoulders. “Your Majesty, I’m sure I do not know what you mean.”
The dance continues, and by the time the musicians change into a new tempo for the next, Melantha has retreated from the floor to speak with the prince.
Perhaps she would prefer to marry him once my father is dead. The thought of my father makes me look around, searching the room for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I’m sure his servants have taken him to bed, which is for the best. He needs his rest.
I see only Alaric, glaring at me from the shadows, appearing everywhere I glance as the night wears on. I dance to keep from having to talk to the prince. Though I should be staying close to be sure my plan works, I cannot find it in me to spend a moment more with him than I must.
When the musicians have played their final set and all the guests have supped and it’s finally time for me to retire, I make my goodnights and head for my chamber. A rough hand grabs my arm and yanks me into a darkened corridor where the torches have been snuffed.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess,” Alaric whispers.
“That’s none of your concern.” I try to pull away, but he’s too strong.
“Do you think she won’t find someone worse?”
I blanche but try not to let it show. Besides, how could she find someone worse? He’d have to be covered in boils and plague infested. “Keep your long nose out of my business, hunter.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps, and he drops my arm. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I pull away, rubbing my arm. “No one asked for your advice. You may keep your thoughts to yourself from now on and learn your place.” I walk away, half expecting him to follow, but behind me the corridor is silent.
Alaric
There’s a pounding on Melantha’s door just as her bony fingers tangle in my hair, and she releases me with a grunt of annoyance. I get to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, grateful for the interruption.
It has been three months since the disastrous cancelled match with Prince Kael, and the frustration of getting the princess wed and off her hands is making her majesty especially tetchy.
Melantha stands, letting her skirts fall to cover herself. “What is it?”
The door opens and a nervous looking footman clears his throat, tugging at the hem of his uniform. “Excuse me, Your Majesty. I am sorry to disturb you.”
Melantha lets out a long-suffering sigh, and I pity the poor boy. He’ll probably be demoted to stable work after this. “Get on with it.”
“Uh, yes. Only Prince Eryk has announced he is to leave in the morning.”
“Another one?”
He clears his throat. “Um yes, Your Majesty.”
“What is that girl up to?”
