She clasped her hands together, playing the part of the spoiled princess. “Rangar Barendur kept me captive for months in a savage kingdom. There is nothing that would please me more than to seehimnow in chains at the mercy of my future husband.”
The crowd murmured at this, but Bryn kept her head steady, closing her ears to it. Let them think she was that petty—they would discover her true sentiments once she’d defeated Carr.
Captain Carr seemed to be experiencing a rare moment of uncertainty. He’d orchestrated this banquet to ensure she would agree to his proposal, but he clearly hadn’t been expecting her to make such an unusual request.
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea, my lady,” he said.
She gave an exaggerated pout. “Surely you aren’t afraid of the traitor, Captain? Am I to wed a man who can’t protect me against a simple prisoner in the dungeon, weakened and shackled?”
The captain’s face burned red from the scar across his neck and spreading upward. Bryn was thankful for the audience now—he wouldn’t dare rebuke her in public.
“Let’s see the traitor in chains!” someone called from the crowd.
Captain Carr looked furious, but he gave a signal to two of his soldiers. “Very well. Bring up the Baer prince. Ensure he’s shackled at wrists and ankles.” He gave Bryn a hard look. “Whatever my bride wants, she gets.”
His anger was clear, but Bryn pretended to ignore it.
As his soldiers left, the captain motioned to the banquet, though his mood had soured. “Please, everyone. Eat. Enjoy the banquet. This is indeed ahappyday for the Mirien.”
The nobles took great interest in filling their bellies with the offerings. Bryn couldn’t help but notice that the servants weren’t invited to partake in the feast, going against the Saint Amice’s Day tradition of mingling ranks.
She grabbed a napkin and used it to smear the rust on her cheeks when no one was looking.
She turned to Captain Carr with an apologetic blush. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined my makeup. Would your guards escort me tomy room so Lisbeth can repair the damage? I’d hate not to look perfect on my engagement day.”
Carr was talking to Lord Gerbert and barely seemed to have heard her. He motioned to the guards who’d been assigned to follow her.
“Go with her,” he told the guards. “Hurry back, Lady Bryn. You don’t want to miss the gift you so insisted upon.”
“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She was all too relieved to get away from the crowd, though her pulse pounded too urgently for her to enjoy the moment of calm that followed. As soon as she was back in her room, Lisbeth jumped up from where she’d been sweeping ashes from the fireplace.
“My lady, I heard the good news!”
The little girl was too young to understand there was nothing joyous about the engagement—all she’d heard were the cheers from the crowd downstairs.
Bryn motioned distractedly toward the hall while she scanned the room for a scrap of paper. “I’ve made a mess of the rust you dusted me with—can you fix it? There are towels in the armoire outside.”
“Of course, my lady.”
While Lisbeth scampered to the hall armoire, Bryn took advantage of the brief privacy to rip a page out of one of her books. She snatched up a quill. Though Mage Marna’s magic had granted her the ability to speak and understand Baer, her written ability with the language was not nearly as fluent. But she didn’t dare write in Mir, which could easily be apprehended and read.
Trust me, she wrote in broken Baer.Val comes soon. You will live to return to the Baersladen. I promise.
She tucked the paper into the bottom of a ring box that she pulled out from her upper drawer just as Lisbeth returned.
Once her adornments were back in order, Bryn steeled herself to return to the banquet. There was still no sign of the usual roasting sticks and dough balls; everything she loved about the holiday had been plowed over by Carr’s proposal and “new tradition” of yet another decadent feast for the nobility.
Carr himself was speaking with several senior military members. The excitement that danced in his small eyes had little to do with Bryn, she knew. Now that he had secured the future throne for himself, he was anxious to assert his power over the realm and demonstrate his strength to their allies and enemies alike.
Servants poured mulled wine for her, which she sipped carefully, wanting to keep her wits about her. Nobles lined up to fawn over her with congratulations, and Bryn made a show of accepting each of their good tidings, but her attention remained on the servants, not the nobles. They were the ones whose audience she wanted.
Only they could get a message to the rebels.
“You look refreshed, my lady,” Captain Carr noted when he eventually joined her at the table. His nose was red, revealing how much wine he’d consumed. Bryn had never known Captain Carr to overindulge in alcohol, but the promise of being king must have loosened his inhibitions.
He saw the ring box at her side and looked momentarily confused since his engagement ring graced her finger. “What have you there?”
