Dragon's Heart (8 page)

Serena stood on a stool in the center of the suite’s sitting room in the midst of a whirl of activity. All around her, a group of women bustled, brandishing measuring tapes, pins, sketchpads, and yards of fabrics in a range of colors, weights, and textures as though they were weapons. They fired questions at her, many of which Killian was certain she didn’t understand or care to answer.

When she gave a curt or noncommittal response, they would first look to the royal seamstress and then to Killian. Knowing as much if not less than Serena, he often deferred to the royal seamstress’s opinion. More than once, he wished his little sister, Coleen, still lived in Haven. She would have had the seamstresses doing her bidding while thinking it was their idea. Serena didn’t know it, but the wardrobe she was being fitted for was his gift to her. She’d given up the jewels, that had come with her title, to help the people of her province. He’d watched as her fingers trailed over a heart-shaped emerald and opal necklace, seen the slight curl to her lips and the moment her smile slipped and duty won over desire. He wanted to give her so much more than a wardrobe, but it was a place to start. Killian hoped it would help make an easier transition into her new role at court.

T
he royal seamstress
, with her silvery gray hair pulled into a sleek bun, stood apart from the other women, directing the chaos. Dressed in the height of fashion for a working class woman of her age, she coughed to get the younger woman’s attention before speaking, “Now, my dear, what type of skirt do you want?”

“Skirt?” Serena glanced at Killian for help, but he was hiding the lower half of his face behind his hand. She was certain he was laughing, and she glared at him, eyes narrowed. Unable to muster up the proper contrite expression, Killian shrugged.

“Yes, my lady,” the seamstress said giving Serena a strange look.

Deciding she would receive no help from her beloved, Serena answered, “No skirts. I don’t wear them.”

The older woman frowned but managed not to look too scandalized. “You will need some dresses and skirts for court functions.”

“Are you saying I am required to get some dresses?” Serena glanced at Killian, pleading for his help with a look.

The prince had the good grace to hold in his laughter. He approached her as several of the younger seamstresses bowed out of his way. Taking Serena’s hands in his and flashing his most charming smile, he said, “Yes. A few.” Serena was about to say something, but he squeezed her hands, so she remained silent, letting him handle the situation. Killian looked at the head seamstress. “Lady Harlowe will require dresses with skirts that allow her as much freedom of movement as possible. In spite of her title, she is a weapons master and was, until quite recently, a lieutenant in Her Majesty’s army and a candidate for the Royal Guard. Though she has resigned her commissions, she must be able to take up arms in defense of herself and others, if required.”

“Very well, as you wish, Your Highness. Perhaps we should use light materials.” The head seamstress stepped forward and nodded, requesting Killian to step aside. “Though I am afraid there is not much I can do about the petticoats.”

“No petticoats,” Serena said.

“N-n-no petticoats?” The seamstress tripped over her shock and gaped at the noblewoman in front of her.

“No. They are cumbersome and restrict freedom of movement.”

“I am not certain what we can do about that.” The seamstress stepped back and began pacing in a slow circle around Serena.

“My Lady Harlowe.” Killian lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. “I am afraid I must take my leave.”

“I may have to be very cross with you, my lord, for leaving me here on my own.”

A mischievous glint showed in his eyes. After giving her a slight bow, he turned and started out of the room. He paused at the door and turned back to the seamstress. “She also requires at least three ballgowns, fit for royal functions.”

Serena sighed and called after him, “Is it too late to refuse the title?”

Killian’s rich, full-bodied laughter answered her. “Yes, my lady, it is far too late.”

Serena sighed and looked in the full-length mirror, seeing her reflection appear as expected, though she wondered how much longer that would last. “Very well then,” she said, turning to the seamstress, “do your worst.”

The small woman smiled and tapped the end of a marking tool against her lips. She started to circle Serena one more time, eyes narrowed and hawkish. “I may have a solution for your everyday wardrobe. It is daring and might cause a stir. The ballgowns will be more difficult. Will you allow me to show you?” She returned to the sheets of paper on a table.

Serena stepped off the stool, taking another woman’s hand for balance. After thanking her, she went to stand beside the head seamstress. The woman had sketched a quick drawing of what resembled a man’s long coat, but she’d made a few alterations. The front fell to just above the knees while the back swooped down to ankle length. What looked like doeskin breeches were worn underneath with knee-high boots. As Serena watched, she sketched out a few more variations before she turned her attention to the question of gowns. “How do you feel about trains?”

“A small one would be acceptable. I do not want to risk it tripping me up or getting caught on something.” Serena watched as the seamstress sketched out a design for a dress that would complement her assets while being modest as fashion required.

“I would like to add a little padding to the back here since we cannot use a full underskirt.”

“Padding?”

“Nothing too large, just something to make the skirt a little fuller, closer to acceptable existing fashions.” She added some lines to the sketches, filling them out and adding details with a few sure strokes of her pencil.

Serena watched, feeling some of her apprehension slip away with each line drawn on the page. A few moments later, the seamstress finished and turned the sketch to the young noblewoman. “They look lovely.” Serena smiled. Not certain how she was going to pay for the new wardrobe, Killian had insisted she needed.

“Very well, my lady. We have your measurements and will begin work immediately.”

“Thank you. Can you let me know how much you estimate the cost to be?”

“His Royal Highness, Prince Killian has assured me that cost is no concern. He is taking care of everything.”

Serena sighed and nodded. She should have expected it. “Of course.”

“Is there anything else, my lady?”

“No. Thank you,” Serena said and watched as the other women busied themselves collecting the tools of their trade and heading out of the room. The royal seamstress watched, making certain her assistants tidied up and left before she turned and curtsied to Serena.

“We will have the first samples ready for you in one week.”

“One week?” Serena shook her head, her eyes wide with shock.

“His Royal Highness asked us to place the highest priority on this order. Please assure him the ballgowns will be ready in time for his naming day celebrations.” The older woman left the room and started down the corridor before Serena sank to the couch.

“This is madness,” she whispered to the empty room. “That wardrobe will cost a fortune and…” her voice trailed off filling the room with silence as she realized exactly what Killian was doing. From his very public displays of affection to the wardrobe, the gossips would talk. The exchange would solidify their relationship in the eyes of the court. He was using the ever-wagging tongues at court to their advantage. “Killian, you mad fool,” she whispered. Torn between laughter and tears, Serena flopped against the back of the sofa before breaking down in a fit of helpless laughter.

I
n the two
months since the assassination attempt and being installed as a member of nobility, Serena learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about what having a title and lands meant. She remained in her seat as other lords and ladies stood and filed out of the room. Her mind spun with everything she’d heard during yet another meeting which seemed to drag on forever. She looked at the sheaf of papers she’d been given and frowned. It was full of demands from other lords and ladies of the court, things they wanted the crown to do for their provinces. Whether their demands were in the best interest of the country as a whole, seemed to be of little concern to them. She stayed at the table after all the others had left. Later, she shook her head and slipped the papers into a leather portfolio, with questions she meant to discuss with Killian the next time they met. Serena smiled as she walked out of the room and into the corridors. She wasn’t paying attention to the people around her when she headed for her suite of rooms.

“A word, if you please, my lady?” The voice behind her sounded pleasant enough, but Serena knew better. It was Lord Wainwright. The man was insufferable.

Serena swallowed back the curse threatening to escape her lips and turned to face the young lord with an expression she hoped would be taken for indulgence.

“Excellent. Since you are new to Council, and matters of state, I would like to offer up my services as…” The young man waved a perfumed handkerchief sending a cloud of nauseating flowery scent wafting over her, “a sort of guide. I’d like you to think of me as a mentor of sorts.” The handkerchief drifted up to the young man’s nose, and he sighed.

“I thank you for your kind offer, my lord. However, I believe I have matters well enough in hand,” she said, though she knew she would be as lost as Lord Wainwright assumed her to be if not for Killian’s evening lessons. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I am late for another engagement.” Serena turned on her heels and walked out of the castle into the crisp spring day awaiting her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face. After a morning spent in meetings with other members of the aristocracy, it was a nice change. She heard a distinct set of footfalls on her right side and glanced over her shoulder.

Ryan took a few more steps before stopping at his friend’s side. He ran a hand through his chestnut hair and bumped Serena’s shoulder with his. “Rough day?”

“Nobles.” Serena sighed and shook her head.

“You do realize you’re among them now, my friend,” he said with a shrug, “as is the man you’re completely in love with.”

“Killian’s different.” Serena chuckled, anticipating her friend’s reply. “And not just because I love him.” She sighed and shook her head remembering the arguments. “It’s because he’s been taught, since he was young, to put his people’s welfare above his own. A lesson, I begin to fear, not all of them believe.”

“You’re hopeless, my friend.” Ryan laughed an honest full-throated one that Serena never heard from the nobles.

“And you’ve chosen to be celibate.” Serena elbowed her friend in the side, “What would you know about hopeless?”

“I wasn’t always, if you’ll recall.”

“I remember.” Serena laughed and shook her head. She recollected a few nights in taverns with Ryan before he’d taken his vows. In the back of her mind, she wondered how many young women around the castle lamented his celibacy. Her friend was handsome with coppery hair, dark eyes, and well-formed, chiseled features.

A moment of silence stretched between them, threatening to become something uncomfortable and awkward, but Ryan broke the spell. “I need to practice. I could use a decent partner. Care to?”

“How did you know that’s exactly what I need?”

“You’re a trained fighter and have been stuck inside all morning with a bunch of nobles who like nothing more than to listen to themselves talk. And you are going to find yourself inside most of the afternoon and all evening with your beloved’s naming day festivities,” Ryan said and shrugged, “so, it stands to reason you will want to follow his lead and practice before the activities get too hectic.”

“He’s practicing today?”

“Already has. I’d say Hayes gave him a new bruise or two for his trouble, but he also thinks he’s ready for the tests.”

“I wonder what the queen will have to say to that?”

“That her grandson should have been more careful during practice. I was watching the bout, the prince seemed distracted, and Hayes took advantage.” As Ryan spoke, they started walking to the practice area.

“I was referring to the fact that Hayes believes Killian is ready to take the test.”

“That is a hornet’s nest I have no desire to disturb.” Ryan offered her his arm, and together they strolled along the paths to the practice field.

“Who are you more afraid of, Killian or the queen?”

“Both.”

“You’re the one who chose royal service, my friend.” Serena laughed.

“It seemed like a sound career path at the time.”

“If I recall, you allowed an old woman reading soggy tea leaves to make that decision for you.”

“Wasn’t she the same crone who told you your heart’s desire would bring you untold heartache?”

“Yes.” She paused, the memory flashing in her mind. “She was.” Serena stopped, her practice sword held point down, loose in her grip. For a moment, she was back in the tea shop, the old woman’s eyes seeming to burn through her as if she could read Serena’s darkest secrets and deepest desires.

“Are we going to spar or just stand around looking like fools all day?” Ryan asked, a hint of mockery in his words.

“As much fun as buffoonery can be,” Serena smiled and took a ready stance. “I say we spar.”

Ryan chuckled and saluted, which she returned before they both stepped forward, their swords meeting. Soon, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, challenging while not pushing too hard, as if by some silent agreement they worked for endurance, not precision or finesse.

Later that afternoon, Serena sat staring into a mirror as Clara worked her long red tresses into a twisted, almost impossible, style held in place by silver pins she was certain were sharp enough to use as weapons. Her upper body was held in a straight-backed posture by the corset which, no matter how often she asked, was laced to the point where she couldn’t take a full breath. The woman who looked back from the mirror wasn’t someone she recognized.

She’s a fake, an illusion born of expensive clothing, magic hairpins, and an ill-thought-out royal decree. She is not me. The whole court is going to see through this farce. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. The only way I know something is right for Lakeshire is if Killian agrees with me. Gods. How did I let this happen?

Clara stepped back and admired her handiwork with a sweet smile. “Excellent. Now for your face, my lady,” she said moving in front of Serena, holding a small ceramic jar of a strange smelling pale concoction.

“No,” Serena said as she stood and shifted her skirts so they wouldn’t trip her.

“You cannot go without…” Clara’s face paled as Serena pinned her with an icy gaze.

She smiled and plucked the pot from the other woman. “I thank you for your assistance, Clara. However, I do not wish to paint my face.”

“Beg your pardon, my lady, but, your…” the maid trailed off as though she didn’t want to finish her thought, but she gestured to her cheek.

“My freckles?” Serena asked.
What’s wrong with my freckles? I have always had them.

The maid blushed and looked away, “Yes, my lady.”

Serena shook her head and sighed as she closed the ceramic pot and set it back on the vanity. “Clara, I am not ashamed of my freckles,” she stated in a cool tone, pausing to let her words sink in. She smirked.
Why don’t I give the court something to gossip about?
“Besides, the prince happens to like them.”

“The prince?” The maid seemed surprised by the mention of Killian.

“Yes.” She smiled, recalling his featherlight touches and kisses over them. “Prince Killian likes my freckles, so I am not going to cover them.”

The maid gaped for a moment, a look of confusion mingling with surprise on her face before she regained her composure. “Is there anything else I can get for you, my lady?”

Feeling a sense of satisfaction and a little more like herself, Serena turned from the mirror. “It has turned chilly in the later parts of the evening. Perhaps a shawl and gloves?”

“Yes, miss.” Clara dropped a quick curtsy and left Serena alone in the room.

Serena turned and caught sight of her reflection again in the full-length mirror, unable to believe the transformation. The dark emerald and silver dress hugged her upper body, tapering to the skirt that draped her lower body without being too heavy or restricting her movement overmuch. When she moved, the light material whispered over her legs, shimmering in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with Killian’s choice.
At least, I look the part, if only I didn’t feel like such a fraud.

A short time later, Clara reappeared with a pair of long pale gray gloves and a matching shawl draped over one arm. She handed Serena the gloves one at a time and helped her fasten the delicate buttons on each one before draping the shawl over her shoulders. After thanking and dismissing Clara for the evening, Serena walked out of the suite and into the corridor. She stopped short.

Ryan stood at attention across the corridor, waiting. Serena frowned.
The dress uniform means he will be at the ball. In what capacity, I wonder?
And what does that smile mean? Her friend met her gaze, and a slight smile curled his lips.

“Did Captain Donnavon change his mind?” She failed to keep the frustration from her voice.
I do not require bodyguards. No other member of the court has members of the Royal Guard assigned to them.

Ryan smiled and walked to where she stood. “No. For the time being, he will respect your wishes and has not assigned me to watch over you.”

“So, it would stand to reason you are assigned to the prince tonight.”

“I am.” He offered her a small bow. “I have been asked to fetch and see you to the ball. Prince Killian sends his regrets.” Ryan frowned. “A matter has come up that his grandmother insists she requires his counsel on immediately. The prince will be unable to escort you, though he assured me he will join you there later.”

Serena’s eyes widened for a moment and beneath her freckles, she paled. “Oh, Gods.”

Ryan chuckled, genuine mirth flashing behind his professional façade. “The prince thought you might react like this.”

“What am I supposed to do, Ryan? I wasn’t born to this.” She raised a hand to her forehead and started walking. “I don’t know what’s expected of me at a ball.”

“You’ve attended balls before.”

“As a member of the Royal Guard or Her Majesty’s Army. I know what my role is in that capacity. Keep the Royal Family and the nobles safe, simple. I’ve never attended as a guest, much less a guest of the prince.”

“You’ll be fine. Just be the charming, young woman he has fallen in love with.” Ryan smiled and tried to offer silent support to his friend, but he knew, in the end, Serena would have to find her own way.

She glanced back at the doors to her suite and let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t suppose I can just hide in here until Killian can make his way to the ball.”

He shook his head, “Your absence would be noted.”

Serena sighed and tried to find a plausible reason to stay in her rooms until Killian could join her, but came up with nothing. “Very well.” She took Ryan’s arm when he offered it, and together they strolled to the grand ballroom.

W
hen they arrived
at the massive double doors leading to the ballroom, Ryan released her arm and bowed to her as assorted noblemen and women drifted past in their finery, voices rising and falling as they gathered around. Serena took a deep breath and watched as a group of young noblewomen passed. They were all wearing luxurious gowns of rich materials that appeared to have miles of fabric in the skirts alone. In an instant, she felt the first stirrings of unease in her gut.

“Don’t do that,” Ryan said as she ran her hands down her sides, smoothing her skirts.

“Do what?”

“Obsess over your dress.” He leaned in and whispered, “You and I both know that Killian picked it out for you.”

“Thank you, and while it does help to be reminded of that, I still have to deal with the court harpies,” she whispered.

“Just remember, you’ve won his heart, not them.”

“And yet, he is not here.” She sighed, wishing he was. Serena could face any enemy, even tough arms masters; yet, a room full of noblemen and women terrified her in a very special way.

As if sensing her unease, Ryan said, “I will let Prince Killian know you are anxiously awaiting his arrival.”

Serena hesitated, almost asking Ryan not to tell Killian she was nervous. It seemed silly, and she was certain that a pack of chattering socialites had nothing on a battlefield or the arms masters. She shook her head and smiled before saying, “Thank you, my friend.”