Legacy (2 page)

I pulled away, eyes widening, appalled that he would make such a presumptuous move. For an instant he seemed angry, but then he dropped his hand with a wicked grin.

“I didn't know that would be your first kiss,” he chided. “Not that I mind, of course. It's just that you are more inexperienced than I anticipated.”

He reached out to touch my necklace, letting his fingertips rest against the hollow of my throat.

“Of course, this does mean many other firsts will follow.”

I glared at him in outrage, floundering for words. Just when it looked like he might try to kiss me again, a voice cut
through my humiliation, disbelief and detestation, interrupting his advance.

“Princess!” London called, striding into sight. “I'm afraid there's an emergency in the palace and I must return you to your quarters. You'll have to come with me now.”

I sprang up from the bench and almost ran to my guard, warm relief spreading through me. Steldor came to his feet with a scowl, intending to accompany me, but London held up a hand.

“You'll have to go. This is not your business.”

Steldor glowered at London, but my bodyguard steadily met his stare. Other than the fact that London was slightly shorter than my escort, the two men were a physical match. They even had the same youthful appearance, although, in truth, London was nearly twice Steldor's age, just one of the things that made the man in whose protective shadow I had lived for sixteen years a mystery to me.

Knowing that London, a deputy captain in the Elite Guard, held rank, Steldor backed down. I left the garden with my bodyguard, imagining my jilted dinner companion reentering the palace shortly after us and stalking down the corridor.

“Well, you were right about the level of protection I would need tonight,” I admitted while London and I climbed the spiral staircase that was reserved for my family's use. “Indeed.”

He had evidently lost his good humor about the evening and seemed to be fuming, although at himself or at Steldor, I couldn't tell.

“And your father expects you to
marry
that pig,” he muttered.

“So it would seem.”

While I was grateful for someone with whom I could share
my feelings, I was surprised by London's forwardness in expressing his opinion of Steldor. I had only known him to listen to my complaints and never articulate his own, although having worked closely under Cannan for years, London would know the vagaries of Steldor's personality where my father did not.

As my thoughts returned to Steldor and his kiss, I wiped at my mouth in disgust. London took note of what I was doing and raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“I don't suppose that was the way you envisioned your first kiss.”

“Why does everyone think that was my first kiss?” I demanded, dismayed that my life was so transparent.

“Don't forget you're talking to me,” he replied with a knowing smirk.

I averted my eyes, willing myself not to blush. “Well, in any case, I'm glad you stepped in. Who knows what else Steldor had in mind.”

“What happened to telling him you felt ill if you wanted to make a hasty exit?”

“When we were sitting on the bench, I couldn't think straight. He has this amazing…” I lost the battle to stem the color rushing into my face, and my voice trailed away. “Amazing what?”

“Scent, amazing scent,” I finished, cheeks now aflame. “He
smells
good?” London teased, breaking into a laugh. “As if he needs another way to attract women. On top of everything else, he smells better than the rest of us!”

Returning to my quarters, I closed the parlor door behind me, murmuring good-night to London. I knew he would be headed for the East Wing, to the first-floor rooms where most of the unmarried guards chose to live. As my primary
bodyguard, he was on duty from the time I awoke until the time I retired. At night, Palace Guards patrolled the corridors to provide security.

I dragged myself through the parlor toward my bedroom, my limbs heavy. Upon entering the room that had been my refuge since I was a little girl, I sank into the chair that stood before my dressing table, removing the pins from my hair and shaking my head so that my thick locks tumbled about my shoulders. I looked into the mirror, letting my eyes wander over the familiar furnishings reflected therein: a generously sized canopy bed, topped by a cream-colored spread and deliciously soft, overstuffed feather pillows; a pair of velvet lounging chairs that beckoned from in front of the fireplace; a dollhouse and a few other toys from my childhood, including a top and a skipping rope; and an overflowing bookcase. These were the things that would never change; the things to which I clung, knowing the events of the coming year could not be predicted.

I stood and crossed the room to pull open one of the double wooden doors that led onto my balcony, my feet sinking into the thick rug that lay on the floor. Despite a cool breeze that sent a shiver through me, I stepped outside to await the arrival of Sahdienne, my golden-haired, round-faced personal maid. During daylight hours, I had a clear view of the rolling terrain that spread toward the lake marking the western border of our kingdom. At this time of night, I could see only what the moonlight permitted—the looming shapes of the buildings in the city.

Knowing from the creak of my bedroom door that Sahdienne had entered, I retreated inside. She unlaced the back of my gown and drew the drapes across the window to the right of the balcony while I donned my nightdress. Then I
slipped under the covers that topped my bed, nestling my head amongst the pillows, and fell asleep before she had finished tidying the room.

I was a princess of Hytanica, protected and sheltered from all the world's horrors, except those of my nightmares. They were rife this night with visions of a future with Steldor: I was a meaningless ornament to an arrogant king, as quickly forgotten as a leaf blown past by the wind.

Perhaps my birthday would alter more than my age. Perhaps, this year, I would at last be able to resist the places nature wanted me to go.

IT WAS DUSK, MY FAVORITE TIME OF DAY. I cherished the moments when I could stand on the balcony off the ballroom and gaze beyond the courtyard gates of our palace into the walled city, watching for the points of lantern light that would appear to ward off the darkness. Beyond the city, farm fields sloped gradually toward the untamed Recorah River, which flowed out of the mountains and defined our eastern and southern boundaries.

It was the occasion of my seventeenth birthday, and the upper society of Hytanica had gathered to honor me on this tenth of May. There was an added air of excitement to this celebration, for it was custom that at eighteen, a female heir would marry the man who would become the next king, and I was therefore expected to choose a husband within the upcoming year. When the whispers and speculation about who was in my favor had at last gotten the best of me, I had retreated to the balcony, hoping that the fresh air would provide relief from the conversation as well as the stuffiness of the room.

Though arguably I should have been allowed to rule—it
was not unheard of for women to reign in many of the texts and stories I had read—Hytanican tradition steered my father's and the kingdom's views on leadership, dictating that they put their trust into the hands of a man and not those of a woman. My father having no male heir, I would be crowned Queen, but not ruler, and would play no role in actually governing the kingdom. The function of the Queen was to supervise the household, plan and execute social events and raise the children. While the line of descent would continue to flow through my blood, the man I married would reign in my stead.

Hearing footsteps from behind, I turned, expecting that one of the young men who sought my attention had followed me. Instead, Miranna glided to the railing, radiant in a sky-blue dress, her strawberry-blond hair falling in waves and curls down her back. With her porcelain skin and delicately sculpted features, she was destined to break the heart of many a suitor.

“Are the celebrations too much for you, sister?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling, for she knew I rarely enjoyed festivities that cast me in a starring role.

“I confess I find myself struggling to breathe in that ballroom.”

We stood in silence while I inhaled the refreshing air, then Miranna lightly touched my hand. “Tell me, has anyone managed to draw your interest this evening?”

“No one who would meet Father's approval,” I said, trying to keep from sounding bitter. “And I cannot marry without his approval.”

“True, but there are so many intriguing possibilities!” My sister's face shone with enthusiasm, for she had, since turning fifteen, developed quite an interest in the male population. “I
know Father can be a bit demanding, but he is not unreasonable. He has many times proven himself to be a good judge of character.”

“He may very well be, but this time he seems to have his sights set on judging only
one
man.” My halfhearted attempt at humor fell flat, for unlike Miranna, I saw no pleasure in the task before me. “Let's review a few of the candidates, shall we? Lord Thane is kind and witty, but he has chosen to study medicine. This disqualifies him, for Father insists a military background is necessary for a king. Then there is Lord Mauston, who is in the cavalry, but his family has fallen on hard times, so he wouldn't bring enough wealth to the marriage. Baron Galen is a field commander who inherited his father's title, lands and holdings, which ought to make him acceptable, but he is Lord Steldor's best friend and
not
the Captain of the Guard's son, so is relegated to second choice at best. And Father wants me to marry someone older than me, someone with the maturity to ascend to the throne at once, which eliminates all the noblemen of my age.” With forced pleasantness, I concluded, “So, you see, the problem is not a lack of interest on my part, but Father's rather extensive list of qualifications.”

“And what of Lord Steldor? I don't know if you've spoken with him tonight, but he is looking very fine indeed.”

Miranna, like my father, had a preference for the Captain of the Guard's son, although I suspected it was for quite a different reason.

“I have never seen an occasion when he did not look fine. Since he has attracted
your
notice, have no misgivings on my account about pursuing him, Mira.”

“What is it that makes you dislike him so?”

“It's his ego. Steldor doesn't walk, he struts. He doesn't
converse with someone, he blesses them with his presence. And word amongst the observant members of the nobility is always about his temper. That notion frightens me more than I care to say.”

Miranna twirled a strand of hair around the fingers of her left hand, and I knew she understood my point, at least with respect to Steldor's temper. A Hytanican woman was the property of her husband, and he could deal with her as he saw fit. This alone made me a poor match for the captain's son, for I was, at times, more outspoken than was wise. I suspected that Steldor's reaction to such behavior might prove unpleasant.

“Still, he has many exceptional qualities,” she finally countered. “And though the issues you've raised may make him a less appealing husband for you, they hardly affect his ability to rule. Besides, he will be guided by both our father and his. He will make a good king, Alera. Everyone sees it. Why can't you?”

“I think it's time we return to the festivities,” I said. “Father and Mother will be making their entrance soon and will be expecting me to join them.”

I turned from her and reentered the ballroom, sweeping my long hair over my shoulders and forcing a genial expression, the ball gown that had been commissioned especially for this occasion swishing around my ankles. Made of white silk chiffon that followed the curves of my body, it had lace-accented bell sleeves that almost touched the floor. Upon my head I wore a silver tiara, its delicate diamond flowers offset by tiny leaves forming three gentle arches that crested in the middle. The ensemble had looked regal in my mirror, but now it seemed to press on me as if the weight of the world rested on my head. Miranna walked at my side, no doubt hoping to
resume our discussion, but I prevented her from doing so by greeting everyone we passed.

The voice of Lanek, the palace herald and my father's personal secretary, rang out from the front of the ballroom in his traditional announcement. Although he had incredible lung capacity, Lanek was rather short and stocky and bore a marked resemblance to an overfed and contented cat.

“All hail the King, King Adrik of Hytanica, and his queen, the Lady Elissia!”

Everyone, including Miranna and I, bowed or curtseyed before my parents as they entered the Royal Ballroom from the Dignitary's Room onto a raised platform. The Dignitary's Room was adjacent to my parents' quarters and was a waiting area for the King and Queen, and occasionally for special guests, prior to their formal appearances.

My parents were accompanied by the Captain of the Guard, Cannan, a tall and imposing man with dark hair and eyes who rarely smiled. Similar in age to my father, he was a member of the nobility and the commander of the Hytanican Military, having assumed that position during the Cokyrian War shortly before my father had become king. In the years since then, he had earned my father's respect and friendship, and he often accompanied the King as an adviser and bodyguard.

My father and mother were dressed in similar colors this evening, in accordance with tradition governing formal occasions. My mother wore a golden gown with red stitching on the bodice; a crown set with rubies adorned her upswept honey-blond hair. My father, whose hair and eye color matched my own, was likewise clothed and crowned in gold, and he shouldered a floor-length red robe with thick cording on the sleeves and at the neckline. While my mother was demure and dignified, my father was jovial in nature, with laugh lines
around his brown eyes and a little extra weight padding his girth.

“Welcome!” my father proclaimed, inclining his head toward the crowd. “This celebration is not to honor me or my queen, but in honor of our daughter, Princess Alera. By the end of her next year, she will marry, and the man who becomes her husband will be my successor. When the day comes for him to ascend the throne, I trust that you will grant the new king the same loyalty and respect you have shown me throughout my reign. Until then, long live Princess Alera!”

My father motioned to me with his hand, beaming broadly, and our guests repeated his petition, shifting their attention to me. As I curtseyed, I saw my father look to Steldor, who had conveniently located himself close to the platform upon which my parents stood. Baron Galen, Steldor's counterpart, was with him and a few feet away stood the rest of Steldor's entourage—two burly soldiers of aristocratic birth called Barid and Devant.

A little shorter and less handsome than Steldor, Galen had wavy ash-brown hair and warm brown eyes. His father had died in the war when Galen was three years old, and Cannan had been as much a father to him as he had been to Steldor. The young men had both become field commanders upon graduation from the Military Academy and were practically inseparable, though Galen was noticeably less cocky and more levelheaded than his friend. I sometimes wondered if it was solely Steldor's influence that brought out the reckless side of Galen's personality.

Barid and Devant had become Steldor's tagalongs during military school. They seemed less intelligent than their leaders, though they had to add value to Steldor in some way
or he would never have allowed them to remain among his comrades.

I had not had many encounters with Steldor and his associates as a group, but their rowdy reputation preceded them. They relished making life unpleasant for the people they considered beneath them (which, for Steldor, seemed to be just about everyone), though they primarily concentrated on terrorizing the young cadets at the Military Academy. They never did anything truly harmful, but I was certain the students were tired of having their horses untethered, their boots filled with mud or rocks and their water salted so it was undrinkable.

Steldor and company also had a reputation for making the rounds of all the taverns in Hytanica in a single night, growing a little louder with each drink and pulling some fairly outrageous stunts. It was both amusing and irritating to me that regardless of how quickly the rumors about Steldor's behavior circulated, as long as he acted the perfect gentleman around my parents, they were content to judge his unseemly conduct as the antics of youth.

My father and mother stepped down from the stage and approached me, accompanied by Cannan, with the King's personal guards falling in behind. The guests resumed their conversations, and Galen gave his best friend a good-natured shove in my direction, though I doubted Steldor, who was quite accustomed to conquering the ladies, needed any such encouragement.

“Alera,” my father said cheerily, arriving before me with my mother at his side, “how do you like the decor? Do you find it tasteful for this occasion?”

I scanned the torch-lit hall, noting the glorious flower arrangements set against its walls and the white chiffon and lace
that draped the edges of the refreshment tables in the same way it draped my body.

“Yes, the decorations are splendid, Your Majesty.”

“Now, now,” my father chortled. “You know I don't stand on ceremony.”

“But how can I help myself when you look so majestic?” I teased.

“You are just as deserving of that title as I am, my dear.” He reached out a hand to brush my cheek. “I would like to speak to you later this evening about the selection of your husband. I know you understand the importance of this decision, but all the same…” He trailed off as Steldor, with impeccable timing, came to stand beside me.

“Your Majesty, My Queen,” Steldor said with a bow before turning to face me. “Princess Alera.”

He kissed my hand, a self-assured grin touching his lips, and my father, looking immensely happy, gave me a wink.

“Lord Steldor.” I acknowledged him coolly, and I had the feeling my father would have taken back his approving wink if such a thing were possible.

Steldor crossed his arms, a trace of a pout tainting his features, and I stole a glance at the Captain of the Guard, who stood as impassively as always. His job was to protect the royal family, not to become emotionally involved in its dealings, but I thought I could detect the faintest urge within him to roll his eyes at his son's behavior.

Conversation resumed, with surprisingly little input from Steldor, for he was watching me intently. Displeasure at his manner flared within me, for I had the feeling he was plotting his next move. I shifted farther away from him as Miranna, clasping the hand of her good friend, Semari, floated into our midst.

Semari's parents, Baron Koranis and Baroness Alantonya, were among those who had suffered the loss of a child toward the end of the Cokyrian War. Their lives had always been clouded by tragedy and mystery, for their firstborn had been taken in the night from his cradle a week after his birth, and his body was the sole one that had not been returned by the Cokyrians. The family had moved on as best they could, and two years later, Semari had been born, followed over the next five years by two more daughters and another all-important son, for only a male could inherit titles and property.

Now that my effervescent sister and her friend were capturing everyone's interest, I seized the opportunity to exit the ballroom. With a nod to the Palace Guards in the corridor, I stepped onto the landing of the open double staircase and peered over the railing to the floor twenty-five feet below. Seeing no signs of movement other than that of the guards stationed by the front doors, I descended the set of stairs to my left and stepped into the Grand Entry Hall, from which one could pass under the Grand Staircase and into the Throne Room, or proceed into either the West Wing or East Wing of the palace.