She couldn’t help comparing this palace to the one she’d visited in England. This one was so much smaller, and so much more exotic in design. Part of the roof was covered with a magnificent gold dome. Ornate, white columns were in the corridors, and the ceilings were elaborately carved.
The walls themselves were works of art, some of them covered with mosaics that glittered with gold, and others with rose- and cobalt-colored tiles and stones. Like many of the buildings she’d seen in the city, the palace was an odd mixture of Eastern and Western influences.
As she looked around the room, she was dismayed to see more than twenty people waiting to see the king! She was tired of delays. She was tired of keeping her identity a secret. She wanted to be rid of this apprehension that was making her queasy.
Nervously, she walked about the room. That was a mistake. She came too close to a man telling a group of big, brutish-looking men a ribald story that they all laughed at. She got away from them and nearly tripped over a goatherd sitting cross-legged on the floor eating a haunch of something with his hands. And he had a goat with him! Probably a gift for the king, but really, inside the palace?!
As Alana moved farther into the room, looking for a safe place to stand and wait, she noticed the other women there. Most of them appeared submissive to the men they accompanied, and they were dressed so differently from her. She was in the height of English fashion, her long, elegant cloak and cap fur-trimmed for winter. In stark contrast, one of the Lubinian women was wrapped in a toga-like garment, another was wearing a long, shaggy vest that appeared to be made of thick, untreated fur. One middle-aged woman was garbed in a more European fashion, but so gaudily, with half her breasts showing, she was rather obviously of loose morals and happily letting the men know it. Alana did note, however, that not all of the men were giants as she’d feared they would be after she, Poppie, and Henry had encountered that band of big, loutish soldiers on the mountain pass as they entered the country.
With the brightly colored walls, she almost failed to notice the small portrait of a man wearing a crown. She was arrested by it. Could it be? Hesitantly, she asked for confirmation from a man nearby and got the proud answer “Of course that is our Frederick.”
My God, her father. Was he really this handsome, or had the artist rendered him so just to please him? Fascinated, she couldn’t take her eyes off the portrait. She had to fight back tears. Her father—but he still didn’t know that she was alive. She was disappointed that they had no family resemblance at all. He was blond and blue-eyed, while her hair was black as pitch and her eyes were gray. Was this going to make her task even more difficult?
Every so often an official-looking fellow opened the double doors at the far end of the room, which she assumed led to the king’s receiving room, and escorted a petitioner or a group of petitioners through them. But more people continued to arrive, keeping the anteroom crowded.
More impatient now than ever to meet her father, she approached one of the two guards standing by those doors to the inner chamber and asked, “When can I expect to meet the king? I’ve already been here an hour.”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t even look at her! She asked the other guard the same question, asked it in every language she knew, but he, too, treated her as if she were invisible! Was it because she was an unescorted woman, or was there some custom she wasn’t aware of?
Fuming over being treated like that—she was their princess!—she moved to sit in one of the chairs. A brutish man she’d noticed earlier actually approached her after a while. She glanced up expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he boldly fingered the fur on her cloak. Outraged, she came to her feet, but he didn’t move away. He just laughed at the glare she gave him. The guards standing nearby did nothing. Fortunately, an old woman showed up to shoo him off.
“Stay away from the men” was all she said to Alana.
Blushing because she hadn’t approached that lout, she went back to pacing the room, more certain than ever that Lubinian men had a barbarian streak.
More than an hour later, Alana suddenly forgot about how tired, hungry, and exasperated she felt when a new palace guard entered the anteroom. She was amazed to see the other guards actually speaking to him when they hadn’t even spoken to each other, let alone to her. This new guard wore an identical uniform, tight, double-breasted, black jacket with gold buttons, cut short to the waist in front. The back of the jacket was longer, split for ease of movement, she supposed, the two tails reaching nearly to the knees. In contrast, the tall, stand-up collars and the cuffs on the jacket sleeves were stark white, embroidered with gold braid. The tightly fitted trousers were also white.
The gold-fringed epaulets on the uniform made the new guard’s shoulders look extraordinarily wide. He was also taller than the other guards, possibly six feet. And something else made him stand out. He was handsome. As if that mattered, but it did cause her to stare at him much longer than she should have. She was still staring when one of the guards pointed her out to him.
She tensed slightly when he glanced her way and then immediately walked toward her. He had better not tell her it was time to leave, not after she’d spent half the afternoon there without having gained an audience with the king.
The thought produced a strong burst of annoyance, so she tried to look away and compose herself. But she couldn’t quite manage to take her eyes off him. He was that handsome.
He had dark gold hair, worn no longer than his nape, yet it draped off his forehead in soft waves, half covering his ears. She verified that he had deep blue eyes when he stopped before her and gave her a brisk military bow. She had to look up even before he straightened. He was taller than the six feet she’d estimated, and young, probably in his mid-twenties. His face was thoroughly masculine with thick brows, a square jaw, and a strong, lean nose that was perfectly straight. Seen this close, he no longer looked like a common soldier. No, indeed, there was nothing common about him. . . .
“Is there a problem?” she asked when he didn’t speak immediately. She’d almost used English, but caught herself in time and addressed him in Lubinian.
“No.” A grin slowly formed as his eyes moved boldly over her face—and then lower! “Though my men wonder what such a pretty lady is doing in here.”
Was he—flirting with her? Something that wasn’t the least bit unpleasant stirred inside her with that thought. She felt so flustered she had to take her eyes off him for a moment to gather her scattered wits.
“Your men?” she asked.
His military bearing became more pronounced. “I am Count Becker, their captain.”
Alana felt a surge of relief. This was a man she could deal with more easily, a formal official whose mouth was set in a hard, straight line. But why did a man this young wield so much authority? Just because he was a member of the nobility? Or maybe he was older than she’d guessed. The deep timbre of his voice supported that thought. The tone seemed almost familiar to her, though she’d heard so many Lubinian voices today. That had to be why.
“I, too, wonder why you are here,” he added in that same formal tone.
“I was led to this room by one of the guards at the palace entrance. Are these other people not waiting for an audience with the king as well?”
He nodded. “Indeed. But there is another room where the nobility wait. It is much more comfortable. Your rich apparel indicates you should have been taken there. So what did you tell the guard that made him show you to the commoners’ hall instead?”
Chapter Twelve
BLAST IT! ALANA THOUGHT. Had she really wasted so much time because she was being too cautious? Yet what other choice did she have? Poppie had warned her not to tell anyone except a highly placed official why she wanted to see the king. Alana wished this captain had shown up sooner to point out she might have hurried the process along if she had at least claimed nobility.
“I told your guard nothing more than that I wish to speak to the king,” she admitted, abashed. “I’m not going to discuss my business here with just anyone.”
