A Tale of Two Princesses (22 page)

     "I will have to suggest that to my father," Court said.

     "Well," the queen said, "let us take lunch."

     "Please."

     Court, Celeste, and Friora left the state room and came to the royal dining table. It spanned the length of the entire room, with ten windows lined along the wall. Friora sat at the head and Court sat across from Celeste in the middle. The courses were served, and during them, Court shared the history of the Cross Kingdom, adding to it the recent war with the neighboring kingdom of Krenlien.

     "Was the Krenlien king hung when your army took the castle?" Celeste asked.

     "That is an interesting question," Court said. "My brother gave the king a choice. The first choice was to allow the king to fall upon his own sword, and in doing so, his wife and daughter, the queen and princess, would be made commoners but live comfortably as an example to the people of Krenlien, or the king could accept banishment, but his wife and daughter would be hung."

     "What did he choose?" Celeste asked with intrigue.

     "It was a trick question," Court said. "You see, the knight's code does not allow us to execute women, so the queen and princess were never in any danger from my brother, but by asking the king his choice, he showed the people his cowardice—for my brother knew he would ask to live and take the easy way out. He was hung, but the people were not bitter over the death, and so rallied to the new duke, and the kingdom was taken into our bosom."

     "Fascinating," the queen said, speaking loudly to battle the distance between them. "I must say, your brother seems a wise man."

     "Wiser than me, I'm afraid, though should I live up to half of his potential, I will be so honored and do honor to those around me."

     "We shall have to see how well you do," Celeste said.

     With lunch finished, the queen stood. Court and Celeste matched her stance, waiting for her to speak.

     "I do believe you two may continue without me," the queen said. "I will take my leave, and so wish you good evening, Prince Cross. May I suggest that Princess Celeste does so enjoy the game of croquet, and she would surely find it an enjoyable competition if you were to contest her?"

     "I would be honored to best the princess, if she does not object."

     Celeste smiled. "I believe a thrashing at croquet would do more good than harm, Prince Cross. I accept."

     "Good evening to you both," the queen said.

     "Good evening, your majesty," Court said.

     "Good evening, my queen," Celeste echoed.

     Court followed Celeste out of the room and up a set of stairs, with Betilly and Wellington on their flanks.

     "Our croquet court is on the roof of the south wing. We shall play with the ocean to our back and the salt air in our noses."

     "Celeste," he said, dropping her title, "may I say, I'm so pleased to be with you again."

     "That's kind of you to say...Prince Cross."

     "Court, please. We do not need to stand on formality with each other, not whilst we're alone."

     "If you wish to speak so familiarly, I will do so, though I do find it uncomfortable."

     "Do you? Why? You seemed so relaxed last night."

     "As I said, it was my momentary illness."

     "May I also say," he said, "you are even more beautiful than I expected, and for a man who could not see your face last night, I did begin to ponder your image, and it has so please me."

     "Thank you. I am gratified to hear that."

     "Of course," he said.

     They arrived at the croquet field, a long, green strip of grass set on the stone roof, a wall behind them and a drop into the ocean before them. Betilly and Wellington prepared the mallets and balls.

     "I'm looking forward to seeing the skills that earned your trophy, Celeste," Court said.

     "Trophy?" Celeste said. "What trophy?"

     "The trophy your mother prepared when she invited the competition from the kingdom."

     "Prince Cross, I do believe you confusing me with another princess you have been courting. I am not amused."

     "No, Celeste, of course not. You told me last night of your trophy. You seemed so proud of it."

     "Oh, that trophy. Forgive me. I forgot I mentioned that. Yes, that was hard earned."

     "Of course," he said. "Please, the first shot is to you."

     Celeste took her time, whacking the ball through the wicket. When it was his turn, Court whacked his ball. It went sailing, rolling off the edge of the castle. He chuckled as he looked over the edge, seeing the ball splash far below in the water.

     "Foul?" he said with a grin.

     "Prince, I do believe you did that on purpose."

     "Guilty," he said coming back to her. "Let's make up our own rules, Celeste. Go ahead, give it a good whack. Let's see how far we can get it out there into the ocean."

     She did not speak, just stared at him. He took up a position at the next ball, pulling his mallet back. He swung it and the ball went sailing.

     "Ho-ho! Look at it go!" He turned to Celeste, finding she had thrown down her mallet and stormed off. "Celeste?"

     He went after her, moving through the door, following her down the steps.

     "Celeste?"

     "I do not like being mocked, Prince Cross. You will find I do not find such things amusing."

     He grabbed her hand on the staircase, spinning her around, moving one step below her, their faces level.

     "Let go of my hand," she said.

     "Why?" he said, turning it and intertwining their fingers.

     "How dare you hold me with such familiarity?" she demanded. "Do you think me a peasant girl you found desperate in the streets? I do not care if you are a prince or a king or even a warlord, you will not—"

     He kissed her, straight on the lips, shutting her up. Her hands shot up to his shoulders, grabbing him, trying to push him away, but he was not having it. His hand held her jaw in place as he opened and closed his mouth. It was a very different kiss from last time. Her lips felt so stiff between his, thin, not pouty, not eager, not hungry for him. He pressed in harder, trying to coax the kiss out of her, the kiss he remembered, his other hand coming to her hip, pulling her in, crushing their bodies together. Her mouth finally began moving, opening and closing against his. She stopped pushing, her hands resting on his collarbone, slipping over it, coming around his back. He pushed her up against the wall, driving his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, tilting her head to let him in, but then he broke the kiss.

     "Forgive me, Celeste," he said, breathing heavily. "I couldn't wait to kiss you again. It's been haunting me since the moment we parted."

     Her eyes blazed; her hand shot up and slapped him across the face. She shoved him away and stormed down the stairs. Wellington and Betilly appeared a second later.

     "Sir," Wellington said. "Wherever is the princess?"

     Court sighed. "Betilly?"

     "Yes, your highness?"

     "I believe I overstepped myself. I think it may be best if I retire for the day. Would you be good enough to pass along my apologies to the princess?"

     "Apologies? For what, sir?"

     "For kissing her. I shouldn't have done it without her leave. I was...overcome."

     "I see," Betilly said. "I will tell her."

     "And tell her, if she'll have me, I would like to come again tomorrow."

Chapter Fourteen

The Ailing Queen

     "She's so different, Wellington," Court said, his horse trotting on the road, "almost like another person."

     "Sir, she was rather ill last night. If anything, she is acting more herself today. Truly, she is a princess of good upbringing. I am much relieved."

     "Honestly, Wellington, if I didn't know it was her, if her hair wasn't identical, if it was even possible, I would have thought it was another woman under that mask last night."

     "Sir, that's preposterous. The very idea is ludicrous."

     "I know, but there was something about her, a spark that I didn't see today."

     "Illness and medication can make one lose their inhibitions. The woman you saw last night is the Princess Celeste when she is relaxed, at peace. She let you see a vulnerable side of her, a weak side, an un-princess-like side, and now she is trying desperately to fix the opinion you have formed. You must give her time to find a proper balance between the two."

     "You're right, of course, as always, Wellington."

     "Do you still wish to propose to her, sir?"

     "Yes," he said, "if she'll have me."

     "Sir, have you forgotten her mother has already agreed to this? If you propose, she is to say yes, and if she refuses, we should leave."

     "No, Wellington. I don't care if the queen gave away her hand. I wish to win her love."

     "You've fallen for her, haven't you, sir?"

     "I fell for her last night, and I'm still falling. I don't think I shall ever stop falling for her." He tilted his head, giving a sideways smile. "I do believe I am what I always feared to be, in love."

     "Yes, sir, I do fear you are as well."

     Court took a deep breath, straightening his back as he rode. "All right then, Wellington! I'm not giving up on her! My Celeste is in there, and I'll draw her out. She needs time with me, and I'll give it to her. We have our whole lives ahead of us."

     "Well said, sir!"

* * *

     "He kissed me, Mother; he kissed me!"

     "What excellent news," the queen said. "Wonderful. He is smitten with you. How this news lifts my heavy heart. You have won him, my Celeste."

     "No, Mother, I didn't win him!" she said, storming back and forth across her mother's room as her mother laid in bed, Vrine ready with the spit bucket for the next coughing fit. "That girl, that, that dirty peasant girl won his heart, not me!"

     "I do hope you see the dangers of allowing maidens to serve in the castle now," her mother said smugly.

     "Mother, please," Celeste said.

     "What matter is it who won his heart so long as he loves you? And he does. It was in his eyes, it was in his voice, it was on his face. He could barely hold himself back from you."

     "From her!"

     "Celeste, let us come to the point," the queen said. "You are jealous."

     "I am not!"

     "Oh, my daughter, you are. And I am so pleased to see it in you. You did not even want to meet him a day ago, and now you are furious that he loves another. Tell me, do you care for him?"

     Celeste ground her teeth. "Do not be ridiculous. I am not jealous, I am furious! And I certainly do not love him! He is simply a little less annoying than I thought he would be, but I still do not wish to share the throne."

     The queen chuckled and then began coughing. Vrine lifted the bucket, letting her spit into it.

     "And," Celeste said, "have you considered what will happen if that stable girl tells Prince Cross she was behind the mask?"

     "The girl is harmless. Do not waste your thoughts on her. She will stay her silence."

     "She is a threat."

     "The only threat to you, princess, is you. Do not push the prince away. Let yourself feel for him. The rest will come easy."

     "He's far too cavalier for my liking," Celeste said, folding her arms.

     "I believe that was my complaint about you," the queen said.

     "He treats me like a, like a friend, like a man."

     "He treats you that way because he holds you close to his heart," the queen said, coughing again. "Princess, listen to me. I do not have so long left. I do wish, so wish that I could see you marry, that I could die knowing you were secure upon the throne."

     "That he was secure upon the throne," she corrected.

     "That you would share the throne with him, and look how he loves you!" the queen said earnestly. "You will lead as women always lead, through their men. When he says go to war, you will whisper in his ear, 'not yet,' and he will obey, because he loves. You fear losing power, but you will have more than you realize."

      Celeste sighed. "And if he does not listen, I am powerless. Why cannot I decide what is best for my own kingdom?"

     "The best for your kingdom is to give them a strong king and a strong heir. Don't you think these things are greater than a great ruler? And tell me, where could you find a man more devoted to you, who worships the ground you walk on, who steals a kiss because he cannot bare to wait for you to give it to him? Not even your father was so stricken with me, and I do swear, there was no request he would refuse me."

     "Except to stay away from maidens?"

     The queen's eyes blazed. "Do not dishonor me in my own bedchamber, Celeste! He had a moment of weakness, and fate struck him down for it. For the queen, despite her cold exterior, does so mourn her love, and she does so hope that her daughter might experience that same love. Do not deny the prince. All the solutions to your problems so lie with him."

     Celeste closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, Mother."

     "Good. Now, daughter, the ring rests on your shoulders. He is waiting for your leave to propose again. Tell me you will invite him to take your hand."

     Celeste took a deep breath. "I must have him respect me."

     "Then tell him to respect you, and he will do so, for he will do anything."

     Celeste took a few steps away, looking out the window. "You have done it, Mother. You have convinced me. I will marry on my eighteenth birthday."

     "Oh, daughter," the queen said. "To hear you say this, I cannot express to you, you have made me so happy."

     Celeste turned back. "I am glad I have made you happy, Mother. You have so little time left...before the end."

* * *

     Court came into his room, sitting down on his bed. He rubbed his face, thinking. Celeste felt so distant. He felt like a fool for kissing her. How was he to win her back? How had he even lost her? What would sweep her off her feet, as she had swept him away? What did she want? What was she waiting for? The flowers had been nothing to her, less than nothing. How had he misunderstood her so? But then, what did she want? Money? No, she had plenty. Gifts? No gift could be greater than his devotion. Power? She had shown no interest in such a thing.