Ginny Hartman (4 page)

Could he be serious? By his still dismayed expression and the condescending tone he had used with her, she was afraid he was. “Do you truly believe that Mother Nature would try to poison me? Or perhaps you think our personal gardener shouldn't be trusted? You watched me with your own eyes pluck the berries straight from the vine. But nonetheless, I will not force you to eat something so suspect as this strawberry.” She hurried and ate the last berry, failing, in her irritation, to savor it as fully as she had the first.

Her first impression of Prince Samuel hadn't necessarily been a bad one. He was tall and slender with curly blonde hair and a fine face. He wasn't ugly but he wasn't overly compelling either. He had seemed nice enough as introductions had been made, but once they had ventured away from the watchful eyes of their parents and began walking in the gardens, Rosalind had found his lifeless prattle dull to the point of distraction. Her eyes and mind quickly wandered to her surroundings, which were a million times more interesting than him.

Suddenly, the thought of wasting any more of her precious time outdoors in his presence made her stomach sour. She didn't want to tarnish her time spent in the gardens with his companionship. Trying to muster up as much politeness as she could, she bowed her head in his direction and said, “Well, my lord, I'm honored that you came such a distance to call on me, but I suddenly remembered that I have a previous engagement that I cannot be late for. I wish you all the best in your travels back to Moar.”

Then before he could object, she scurried off as fast as she could while still trying to maintain some semblance of class. Rosalind purposefully walked to the side entrance of the castle, hoping to sneak up the back stairs to her chambers to avoid what would inevitably be an unpleasant encounter with her mother. The entire time she fled her breath came in short, panicked bursts. She kept waiting for the Prince to follow after her and demand she remain in his presence, but fortunately, he never did.

Once inside the safety of her chambers, Rosalind walked to the bed and threw herself down, looking up at the scarlet canopy above. She took three long, steadying breathes to calm her nerves before an unexpected fit of giggles bubbled forth from her chest.

“I fail to see any sort of humor in what just occurred.” Rosalind sucked in a shocked breath, her giggles ceasing instantly at her mother's angry statement. How did she already know what had just happened?

Rosalind didn't think that she voiced her question aloud, but her mother answered her nonetheless. “You apparently forgot, in your hasty flight from the Prince, that Brigit and I were not very far from you, ensuring that you had a proper chaperone while in the man's presence. I was far enough away that I didn't hear what you two were speaking of, but I was close enough to see the atrocious way you fled.” Rosalind was speechless. “Now,” her mother continued icily, “I command you to stay put while I go try to make my apologies to the King and his likely offended son. I will claim that you suddenly fell ill which caused your hasty retreat. With any luck, the Prince will believe my excuses and agree to come calling on you once more.”

Rosalind bolted upright, “I most certainly do not want him calling again. Tell him I took ill if you must, but do not encourage him to return. I refuse to speak with the man again.”

“I have no time to argue with your stubbornness right now, but mark my words; this isn't over.”

Rosalind made a face at her mother's retreating figure, and as soon as her door shut, she threw a pillow at the door, wishing she could have thrown it at her mother. Sulking back onto her mattress, Rosalind groaned. Her mother didn’t seem to understand that she was not interested in finding a husband. She wished she could have just one day where she could do as she pleased, without having to bend to conform to the standards expected of her as the daughter of King Eustace, a princess.

Turning away from the door, she grabbed the one remaining pillow left on her bed and stuffed it under her head. She curled her legs up underneath her thick, velvet skirt and thought back to the fateful night of her entrance, the night that her whole world had changed for the worst.

But just like every other time that she allowed herself to think back on that night, her mind predictably began recalling the moment her eyes had met his—the clear blue eyes of the High King's lead defender. She knew the moment she looked at him watching her perform the Saylatee that he was her uncle's defender. His black tunic emblazoned with the High King's crest, a lion representing the King's own courage and fierceness, and a swan representing the Queen's unending grace and strength with a dagger in the middle, had given his position as defender away. But it was his close proximity to the High King along with the bold red ribbon stitched into the right shoulder of his tunic that caused her to realize that he was not only a noble defender, but the lead one at that.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of his. His smoldering expression had bolstered her confidence, compelling her to dance even more passionately, with more precision than she had ever done before. The way he had watched her, so intensely and unflinchingly had caused a stirring of excitement in her breast—no one had ever looked at her the way he had, and it made her feel powerful.

When the dance ended and she had bowed before the High King, she could still feel his eyes boring into her, though her back was now facing him. She wanted to squirm, as she slowly and deliberately recited her full name, in all of its entirety to her uncle, King Cedric, embarrassed that the handsome stranger now knew all of her silly names. She would never understand why her parents saw fit to give her six names when she only ever answered to one.

She still didn't fully understand what had compelled her to seek him out on the balcony, other than she felt some need to prove to him that she was capable after her embarrassing blunder in the woods. She had never anticipated that he would nearly kiss her, or even more shocking, that she had wished he had, but she did. And she couldn't help it that the entire time, well, almost the entire time that she had been conversing with Prince Samuel, she kept thinking of what it would be like if he attempted to kiss her like the defender had. And every time, she wanted to gag.

A draft made its way slowly but forcefully into her room, as her heavy door was pushed open slowly. She refused to turn and greet her mother, hoping she would think she had fallen asleep and decide to leave her alone. Closing her eyes, she waited as still as she could. It wasn't until her mother sat next to her on the bed that she realized it wasn't her mother at all. The mattress dipped with the weight and she knew that the pressure caused was much more than what her mother would have created. Forgetting her desire to appear asleep, she turned to see her father sitting next to her.

King Eustace's eyes looked sad, and she instantly hated the disappointment she had caused him by her behavior. She sat up and reached for his hand. “Father, I'm so sorry about what happened with Prince Samuel.”

“So am I,” he replied in a quiet voice.

Rosalind's throat constricted with emotion. Though it seemed that her mother lived in a constant state of disapproval over her actions and behavior, it was rare for her father to ever show any disappointment. He was always more tolerant of her antics, and it broke her heart to see that she had caused him any grief.

Silence stretched long and thin between them before Rosalind finally gained control of her emotions enough to speak. “I didn't wish to offend the Prince, but I wasn't interested in spending any more time in his presence.”

“You didn't spend nearly enough time with the man to judge if you truly liked his presence or not.”

“Trust me, it was long enough. And, if I judged correctly, he didn't wish to spend any more time in my company either.”

“Rosalind,” he said her name as he exhaled heavily. “We have been hoping to secure an alliance with the Kingdom of Moar for quite some time now and were hoping that a relationship between you and Prince Samuel could be the way we united both kingdoms.”

“But I thought the choice was mine in whom I seek to marry? If you have already decided what is to be my fate, why trick me into thinking I had a choice in the matter?”

“You do have a choice. No one will force you into an agreement that is not pleasing to you, but I think it's only fair that you put some effort into your decision and not simply turn everyone away without giving them a chance.”

“Are you saying you think that I didn't give Prince Samuel a fair chance?”

He smiled knowingly, “Do you think you gave him a fair chance?”

Rosalind thought about it for a moment before saying, “Maybe not. But I honestly didn't like him very much. It didn't seem like we had that much in common. And besides, in case you didn't know before now, I'm not ready to get married. There's so much I want to do before settling down to a life of responsibility.”

“Like what?” he asked, genuinely amused.

“Well,” she started slowly. “Like working in the garden. There are so many rare plants I wish to find and transplant into the castle garden, plants and herbs that will be of much use to the entire kingdom. I want to spend time outdoors. I want to do the things which interest me and not have to worry about whether they are appropriate or not.”

Her father chuckled softly. “None of that stuff is particularly important to a queen.”

“But it's important to me,” she wailed indignantly.

Reaching one thick hand out, her father gently placed it on her shoulder. “Since the day you were born, you've always been different.”

“Different?” Rosalind bristled.

“Nay, perhaps I should have said special. There, how's that?” He waited for Rosalind to give him a half smile before he continued. “There's greatness inside of you Rosalind. I've long felt that your life is destined for greatness. You have much to offer a kingdom, and as queen, you will have the chance to do much good.”

“Can't I do good now? Must marriage be a requirement for greatness?”

“There's power in marriage, Rosalind. There's something unique and special that happens when two people, each endowed with greatness, combine together to rule. To answer your question, yes, you can be great on your own, but with the right husband you can be even better. You can bring out the best in each other and work towards a common goal. There's power in that.”

“And you think that the right husband for me would be Prince Samuel?” she asked, still feeling slightly defensive.

“Possibly. Only time will tell.”

“I told mother to tell him not to come back, that I didn't wish to have him call on me again.”

“And knowing your mother the way I do, I know that she didn't relay that message. I think it is only fair to him, and to yourself, that you agree to spend some more time getting to know him before you make your decision final. Can you do that Rosalind? Will you agree to see him again?”

Rosalind didn't wish to argue with her father, or fight against the hope she heard in his voice, and saw in his eyes. She truly loved him and never wanted to cause him grief. She decided that she would agree to meet with Prince Samuel once more, but not before she did a little bargaining of her own. “I suppose it's the least I can do, for you, Father. But on one condition.”

Her father raised a bushy eyebrow suspiciously. He had grown used to the fact that his daughter rarely did something for them without getting them to agree to do her a favor in return.  “What is your wish this time?” he asked with humor, anxious to see what she would purpose.

“Let me stay here instead of going with the rest of the family to Brantonwall Castle for the quarterly king's council meeting.”

“We will be gone for nearly a fortnight,” he exclaimed. “That's a long time to ask to be away from your parents.”

Rosalind rose to her knees, taking his hand in both of hers as she pleaded, “The time will go by quickly; you'll see. Besides, I'm a woman now, surely you trust me to be away from you and mother for a time.”

“Of course I trust you. I just don't see why you need to stay. I thought you enjoyed visiting your cousins.”

“Truthfully Father, I find it dreadfully dull at Brantonwall. The last time I was there I was chastised for spending too much time outdoors. Aunt Isabel gave me a scolding I won't soon forget. She said that I was ruining my delicate skin by spending so much time in the sun. Tis rarely ever sunny in Darth, I pointed out, but that only made her angrier. The thought of being cooped up in that dark castle for days on end makes me want to go mad. Please, let me stay, and I promise I will spend time getting to know Prince Samuel better. Please,” she begged.

Finally her father relented. “Very well, but you have to promise to be on your best behavior.”

“You know I will be,” Rosalind squealed in excitement. “Brigit will see to that.”

“I meant the next time you see Prince Samuel. I will not tolerate you running away from him again.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter 5

Sorrow Befalls the Kingdom

Terric shifted slightly, directly behind where all three rulers of Darth sat discussing the most pressing matters regarding the kingdom. The kings sat with their heads close together over the thick wooden desk in the middle of the octagonal room. The tower space had been set aside specifically for use during the king's quarterly council meetings and had been the place where important business regarding the kingdom had been discussed, argued over, and eventually decided on for hundreds of years.

Terric had anticipated this quarter’s council meeting ever since he had attended Princess Rosalind's entrance. At first he tried to convince himself his interest was purely political. He had always loved having first hand access to the knowledge of the happenings of the kingdom, but when his thoughts constantly turned towards the intoxicating Princess, he knew that she was the real reason behind his eagerness for the council. He had been anxiously waiting to see her again, convincing himself that even a glimpse of her would be enough. Of course, he had lied, one glance would never be enough, but it didn't matter now for the Princess had not come.