Chapter 1
The Emerald Princess
This was torture, being forced to sit still while her attendants yanked her hair into tight braids as they tried their best to transform her into a proper princess.
Issylte yearned to be astride her horse, galloping towards the forest, the chilly wind whipping her hair and stinging her cheeks with glorious freedom.
Instead, she had to endure the agony of her long blonde hair being plaited with ribbons of emerald silk and sparkly gold thread. Because her father’s betrothed was arriving today with an entourage of royal courtiers and servants. And Issylte had to appear perfect when presented to the woman who would become her stepmother and queen.
She shuddered at the thought.
The entire castle was ablaze with activity in preparation for the upcoming royal wedding between Issylte’s father, King Donnchadh of Ireland, and Princess Morag of Scotland. The royal marriage would create an alliance between the two kingdoms and bring an end to the twelve long years of her father’s solitude since the death of his wife, Queen Liadan, during Issylte’s birth.
Father deserves to be happy,Issylte thought begrudgingly, flinching as her ladies in waiting stuffed her into an elaborate, elegant, dark green gown.
She glanced over at the seamstresses who were meticulously sewing the crystals and gemstones to the gauzy creation that shewould have to wear to the wedding. It looked like a ridiculous cake. And extremely uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
There would be hundreds of lords and ladies in all their finery. Sumptuous feasts, stifling etiquette. Issylte was terrified that her father intended to select her future husband from among the royal wedding guests.
The thought of putting her sweat-drenched palm into the polished hand of somedashingprince made her stomach turn. And he would probably whisper into her deaf ear.
She would have to pull away from him, turn her head completely around so that he could speak into her good ear, and look like a total idiot. She’d die of humiliation.
Or pretend that she’d heard whatever charming, witty thing he’d said. Search for clues in his facial expressions and mimic them, as if she thought he were oh, so clever. By the Goddess, she hated being a princess!
Brangien’s voice interrupted her disquieting reverie.
“You are positivelyradiant, sweetheart. These silk ribbons really enhance the color of your gown. And the golden threads in your hair. They sparkle and shimmer in the light.”
Issylte sighed audibly. She plopped down onto her vanity stool, pouting at the sight of the intricate braids on either side of her pinched face. She glowered at her reflection in the mirror. By the Goddess, she wanted to gallop away from all the madness of royal wedding preparations! But Brangien absolutely loved it.
Her nurse came up behind her to place a delicate golden coronet, adorned with emeralds, upon her head. Brangien kissed Issylte’s cheek and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “You’re sure to please your father and attract the eye of many a fine lord as well!”
Issylte rolled her eyes. She would soon reach the marriageable age of fourteen, and Brangien positively reveledin playing the role of royal matchmaker. But Issylte had no desire whatsoever to attract a potential suitor. Or to be aproper princess,for that matter.
Brangien stroked her golden hair—unbound in the style ofyoung maidens—and beamed at Issylte’s reflection in the mirror. “I know that you, my dearest, stubborn princess, would rather be cleaning your horse’s stall instead of donning these exquisite gowns.” She gestured to the expansive royal armoires that her father always kept generously filled. “But tonight, you will behave as the Emerald Princess of Ireland and make your father proud. And this gown isperfectfor the occasion.”
Brangien kissed her cheek again. Issylte exhaled, slumped her shoulders, and reluctantly accepted defeat.
Her nurse lovingly stroked one of the slender braids. From the obvious contentment on her face, Issylte knew that Brangien approved of the dark green gathered velvet bodice of her gown, the fancy braids, the golden crown of emeralds glinting upon her head.
“Darkest green, like the forest you love so well,”her nurse whispered into her left ear as she squeezed Issylte’s shoulder. Brangien gently wiped a tear from her eye, basking Issylte in the golden glow of her generous grin. “My Emerald Princess.”
Issylte couldn’t help but return a loving smile. Although her nurse frequently drove her crazy with the endless matchmaking attempts, she absolutely adored herGigi.
A blare of trumpets sounded, heralding the arrival of Princess Morag and her royal procession from Scotland. Brangien took Issylte’s hand, urging her towards the door.
“Come, let’s go quickly. Your father the king will wish us to be there to greet his betrothed.”
Exiting Issylte’s royal chamber, Brangien led her down the long corridor to the stone staircase, which led to the Great Hall below.
The Castle of Connaught was sumptuously decorated for the royal wedding, with evergreen and ivy garlands embedded with roses and peonies in full bloom. Huge bouquets of spring flowers in elegant vases graced every tabletop. The tapestries on the castle walls were clean and fresh, and the wooden furniture was fragrant with the scent of pine oil. Gleaming marble floors and crystal chandeliers glistened in the morning sun as Issylte, Brangien, and two attendants proceeded to the Great Hall to meet King Donnchadh and his royal guests.
The entrance doors were opened wide, flanked by members of the royal guard, dressed in their finest livery. Her father’s banner—a great white hawk with outstretched wings against a dark forest green background—welcomed her, the Emerald Princess, to the Great Hall.
At Issylte’s approach, a trumpet sounded once again, announcing her arrival. The sight of hundreds of elegantly attired courtiers and royal guests assembled in the Great Hall made Issylte’s heart flutter wildly.
“Her Majesty, the Princess Issylte!”
