The Silver Eyed Prince (Highest Royal Coven of Europe) (13 page)

Shaken with the knowledge the Prince had rapidly gathered, Sir Henry decided to reveal everything he knew. He told the Prince about John Drake, Duke of Northern Peninsula, and the events that forced the fo
rmer Queen to keep the truth from her daughter out of concern for her safety. He likewise disclosed the reasons why she elected not to go back to Europe.

Finally, Sir Henry made his appeal. “Your Hig
hness, Elizabeth Gwendolyn the fifteenth had requested that her relationship with her daughter be kept secret. I hope you find there is sufficient basis to grant her wish.”

Prince William sat back in his chair with an elbow on the padded ar
mrest, brushing his knuckles pensively across his lips. “Hmm. So that was the reason I couldn't foresee who and where she was ... she thought she was Human!”

Richard shifted in his chair. “May I express an o
bservation, Your Highness?”

The Prince pinned his eyes on him
and nodded.

“Lady Elizabeth is quite outspoken and prejudiced with our race,” Richard stated openly. “She doesn't trust us and shows signs of unease. We placed her with the Tainted not just to co
nceal her true identity, but also to give her time to adjust—.”

“You are implying that I should have more patience and not rush her,” Prince William inserted brusquely.

“Precisely, Your Highness.” Richard inclined his head. “She is only seventeen—.”

“Seventeen?” The Prince hurled a sharp glance at Sir Henry.

“The sign of the Omni appeared early, Your Highness.” Sir Henry curtailed his anxiety. “I had no choice but to call on you, even if she needed another year before she could fulfill her destiny.”

The Prince muttered an expletive under his breath and dragged his fi
ngers through his hair.

“The time could be used favorably to establish a r
elationship, Your Highness,” Richard said quietly. “Patience has its rewards.”

“Patience is something I do not possess nor do I have the time,” the Prince retorted and stood up. “Thank you, Sir Henry, Mr. Stapleton.”

Both men rose quickly from their chairs.

“I shall summon you if I need anything.” The Prince strode to the door and left the room.

Sir Henry shook his head and turned to Richard. “I knew he wouldn't be pleased with the situation.”

“He's quite upset.” Richard shrugged. “But if he doesn't heed my counsel he may be in for a surprise. L
ady Elizabeth is headstrong. She was raised differently and doesn't have any concept of the magnitude of his rank. She will put him in his place.” His mouth curved at the corners.

“Let the merciful Omni help us all when that ha
ppens,” Sir Henry said and patted Richard on the back.

Prince William stared out the window of his private suite located in the right wing of Darian Hall, reflecting on the conversation he had with Mr. Stapleton and Sir Henry.

He had not counted on a prolonged stay in America. He and his cousins did not come here to study. His main goal was to find Elizabeth and promp
tly bring her back to England. His cousins came to provide extra protection. However, he didn't expect to find her unaware of their shared destiny or that he had to wait a year to have her.

Blast it!
He cast a surly gaze at the starless night sky, restraining his impulse to grumble to The Great Omni. Most certainly, this was a new test to challenge his fortitude. The All-Powerful had dealt him with yet another curve-ball, complicating an otherwise simple task.

The Prince pursed his lips in frustration. He de
spised not foreknowing anything and curbing his powers to honor The Omni’s wishes that he acquire wisdom through human means. As to what sort of wisdom there was for him to learn this time around remained a mystery.

He sighed.
Now how, pray tell, was he going to
convince Elizabeth she belonged with him by acting like a mere mortal?
Their first real encounter had been a disaster, but then again ... he chuckled at the thought of that shy smile she gave him after combat class. Perhaps there was hope after all.

A few taps on the door interrupted his contempl
ation. He glanced over his shoulder and willed the door to open.

“Would you care to join us for armed combat?” Prince David, one of his cousins, leaned on the doorway carrying two swords.

“Maybe another time.” Prince William beamed at him.

Prince David gave him a discerning glance. “Is there something I should know?” He stepped into the room. “I daresay you look—,” he made a show of searching for the right word, “
radiant
.”

Prince William threw his head back and laughed. He had never felt so elated in his life—even if nothing had gone as planned.

“Well?” Prince David regarded him with teasing eyes.

“She's here, David.” He couldn't stop grinning like a love-struck schoolboy. “I finally found her.”

Prince David gaped at him for a moment before a look of delight crossed his face. “That feisty girl in Major Alexander's class ... she's
The One
, isn't she?”

“None other.” Prince William suppressed his amusement. His cousins knew him too well not to n
otice.

“Good merciful Omni!” Prince David tossed the swords on the couch. “It's about time!” He gave him a hug and vigorous pats on the back.

Prince William's smile disappeared. “Well, that's just it.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “We'll have to stay longer. She needs more time. She doesn't know who I am.”

Prince David raised his eyebrows. “You're jesting!” His eyes widened when Prince William slowly shook his head. “How much time?”

“Hopefully not much.” Prince William lifted his shoulders. “The sooner I can make her concede that she's in love with me, the earlier we can go home.”

“How can you be certain she's in love with you?” Prince David asked with exaggerated perplexity. “She didn't seem, er—, besotted with your le
gendary charisma when you dropped her on her bum.”

“Oh, but she is. She just doesn't know it yet.”

Prince David rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “And how are you planning to make her concede, may I ask?” He folded his arms across his chest. “You've never wooed a girl in your life.”

“I never needed to,” Prince William replied conf
idently, “and neither have you.”

Prince David roared with laughter. “Ah, Philippe and I may be popular with the ladies, but not as—shall we say—sought-after as you are.”

“Thank you, Cousin, for inflating my ego.” Prince William chortled. “Perhaps I'll join you in armed combat after all.”

“I hope your plan to charm her into submission works.” Prince David chuckled. “I would hate to see your ego trodden.”

“It has to work.” Prince William gave him a serious look. “And remember—keep this between us and our cousins.”

“What about Catherine?” his cousin asked in a somber tone.

The Prince paused for a moment. “I have to talk to her.” His jaw clenched. “Don't mention a word about this to her or anyone else.”

Prince David nodded. “I agree, but you'll have to straighten everything with her soon. We can't keep on hiding things from her. She is a friend and we'd rather not be involved with pe
rsonal matters between the both of you. Other than that, we support you in every way.”

“Yes, I understand. She'd always come uninvited, but I didn't think she would follow me this far.” Prince Wi
lliam uttered a tsk in disapproval. “Her unexpected arrival certainly made things more arduous to deal with.”

Prince David shook his head. “You should've br
oken up with her back in Switzerland.”

“She's not my girlfriend, David.” Prince William gave him an irked glance.

Prince David shrugged. “I know—but does she?”

“Well, if she doesn't, she will—now.” Prince Wi
lliam sighed.

John Drake’s Affliction

       In a large estate hidden in the remote wilderness of the Australian Northern Peninsula, John Drake sat combing through the school records from America. He had been in his library for hours and his patience had thinned considerably.

He re-examined all students named Elizabeth and checked other Royal enrollees in case she used a diffe
rent name, but none led him anywhere. Frustrated and discouraged, he decided to go through one last list for the day.

He scoured the files, but found nothing. Then, t
owards the end of the registry, something caught his eye. John sat back in his chair and stared at the name he thought never to encounter again.

Lady Catherine XV. It had been so long ...
memories of the events that led them to cross paths came rushing back.

It began with the ambush and assassination of his parents on their way home. He was only four decades old at that time; twelve years after his maturity at age twenty eight. He found himself suddenly alone, taking on the role as Duke of Northern Peninsula.

John twirled his pen and sighed at the memory. Many had doubted his abilities, but only three years after the incident he already surpassed his father's achievements. He was smart, savvy, and a financial genius. He effortlessly earned the respect of his father's peers.

But he was also ambitious. He used his father's connection as distant cousin to King Tristan XII, ruler of the Australian continent, to pursue a friendship with the Monarch and fu
rther his place in the hierarchy. As the King gradually favored him, he sought more of his company in Royal gatherings.

John's gaze alighted on Catherine's picture on the computer screen. They met in one of those social events five decades ago. She captivated him. He courted her avidly and she returned his affections.

He drew a long, deep breath, remembering those passionate moments when they were together. He had asked her to be his wife and she'd accepted.

However, one thing stood in the way. She was E
uropean nobility and he was Australian nobility. Royals and nobility of European descent only intermarry among themselves to preserve their pure breed. Intercontinental unions were strictly forbidden to them—not by law, but by tradition.

Raw emotion filled his chest as he recollected the sad end of their relationship. Catherine's mother, the Danish Marchioness, had discovered their affair. She immediately barred Cath
erine from seeing him.

He tried everything. He offered exceptionally ge
nerous settlements to marry her, but nothing could sway the Marchioness. She regarded him with eyes full of disdain and rebuffed his pedigree as inferior.

John stabbed his pen on the desk, leaving it stan
ding like a dagger on the wood. The memory of the Marchioness' words besieged him with a torrent of anguish in spite of the length of time that passed.

For half of that year in 1961 he suffered and pined for his beloved, hopeless in his predicament. Then one day King Tristan XII requested his company to a Royal Ball in Europe. He readily accepted, hoping to see Cat
herine. Ah, if he only knew ... that disastrous night would turn out to be his undoing. His ideals were destroyed and everything he believed in was forever changed.

John squeezed his eyes shut.
How could he ever forget his euphoria upon seeing his beloved waltzing gracefully on the dance floor?

He wove through the throng of di
stinguished guests to catch her attention, but as he moved closer, he noticed the expression on her face. She used to look at him that way—, except that night, her eyes were only for the dark-haired gentleman who held her in his arms.

Pain, disillusionment, and heartbreak slammed in his chest and he caught his head in his hands, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He could still experience ever
ything as clearly as if it just happened yesterday.

He could never expunge the way Catherine acted when, at last, their eyes met. She regarded him the way her mother did—a cold stare that meant she could not be with him, could not po
ssibly love him, because
he wasn't good enough.

John abruptly stood, walked t
owards the warmer on the sideboard, and poured himself a measure of fresh, aromatic blood from the decanter. He had never been so belittled and disgraced, the way Catherine and her mother had demeaned him. None of his achievements mattered to them: his wealth, his aristocracy, or his rank in the hierarchy. He wasn't European; therefore, he was insignificant.

A sudden burst of fury shot through him and he took a swig of his drink as he recalled how Catherine d
eliberately paraded her partner before him. Her eyes were full of adoration for her new beau, whom he later learned was a Prince of the most prestigious European bloodline—the only son of Prince William James XIII of France, first cousin of King Edmund Royce XII, Monarch of the Highest Royal Coven of Europe at the time.

John's temper exploded. With a growl, he flung the crystal goblet across the room, hitting the glass display containing his weapons collection. The loud crash matched his rage from the insults she threw at him on that ill-fated day.