“I’ll be glad to,” said Elowen. “But why the hurry, Mother?”
“If you’ll refrain from interrupting me, I’ll tell you,” her mother said crisply. “We received a scout half an hour ago from Prince Theodore’s party. They’ve made unexpectedly good time on their journey and will be with us today. We expect them within the hour.”
“Within the hour?” Elowen froze. “But Mother, the prince isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!”
“I’m well aware of that,” the queen said. “You picked a poor time to slip off for a dangerous adventure, Elowen. Now up to your room and change!”
“But what about the matter we discussed?” Elowen asked, fighting a feeling of panic. She was supposed to have one more night to collect herself. “You and Father were going to give me an answer at dinner.”
“Never mind that.” The queen made a stately version of a shooing motion. “Make yourself presentable, and meet us in the blue audience room. As quickly as you can, child!”
“But—”
Elowen’s protest was lost as a host of maids appeared, ushering her toward her rooms. She barely had the chance to catch her breath as they stripped her, scrubbed her, and dressed her in one of her finest gowns. Her hair, free of dust and restored to its usual pale blond silkiness, was brushed to within an inch of its life and styled elaborately on her head.
She wasn’t blind to the effect. She emerged looking beautiful and graceful, but she couldn’t take pleasure in it. Her thoughts were too snarled up as she tried in vain to adjust to the prince’s imminent arrival. She’d allowed herself to think of her impending betrothal as a problem for the future for far too long. Now, suddenly, she was out of time and out of options. It was as though she could feel her freedom slipping through her fingers like the thin silk of the wrap draped becomingly over her shoulders.
Prince Theodore was almost there. Prince Theodore, a total stranger, would be her betrothed in a matter of days.
She was about to see the face of the man she would wake beside for the rest of her life.
The whole idea was impossible to grasp. What would he be like? She remembered Bertrand’s mocking words.
Rumor says Prince Theodore is the stiff, dull brother.
She’d heard the same rumors, of course. Since whispers of the betrothal had spread, every courtier and servant alike had been eager to repeat to her any information they’d ever heard about Prince Theodore, however garbled it might be.
But all rumors came from somewhere. What if Prince Theodore was as cold and aloof as people said? Worse, what if he was cruel? A thrill of fear went through her at the thought. Her parents wouldn’t wish to marry her to someone cruel, but he could easily hide it until the marriage was complete. Then she would be living in Siqual, away from her family and all her friends.
Even if he stopped short of intentional cruelty, there were other ways she might suffer. What if she attempted warmth, and he met it with disdain? What if he made light of their vows and humiliated her with unfaithfulness? Perhaps he wouldn’t do so openly, out of respect for their alliance, but even privately it would crush her.
What if, whispered a voice,he’s none of those things? Elowen had dreamed of romance the same as the next girl, in spite of always knowing she was unlikely to be free to pursue it. Somewhere under the apprehension was a hint of excitement, an optimistic daydream that Prince Theodore might be the opposite of her fears. Maybe hewasthe dashing prince, in spite of Bertrand’s snide words. Maybe he would be warm and charming, with a kind smile and eyes only for her.
Elowen sighed, banishing the thought. No sense in raising her hopes only to have them disappointed. She would be wiser to assume that she was saying goodbye to dreams of romance forever.
She met her own eyes in the mirror, steeling herself. She didn’t want to say goodbye to romance. She may have only minutes left, but at least that was something. She had to convince her parents to give her back a tiny measure of control, little though they might understand her reasons for it.
“Am I done?” she asked the closest maid impatiently. “I wish to join my parents.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The maid’s eyes shone with excitement. “You’ll be eager to meet the Siqualian prince, I’m sure.” She lowered her voice. “Rumors say that he’s handsome, Your Highness. Tall, and dark-haired, and mysterious.”
Elowen almost snorted at the last word. It was the polite way of saying stiff, she supposed. “Mysterious only because we know so little of him,” she said aloud. “As for handsome, well…I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
She swept from the room, followed by a posse of attendants. When she reached the blue audience room, she dismissed them all. She could tell from the air of poised expectation that the Siqualian group hadn’t arrived yet. She still had time.
“Father, Mother.” She burst into the room, her skirts swirling around her.
“Elowen.” Her mother’s tense posture relaxed as she quickly studied her daughter’s form. “Much better. You look lovely, child.”
Elowen dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand.
“Yes, the maids outdid themselves.” Her eyes pinned her father, who was in conversation with Sophia’s father and another man she vaguely recognized.
“Have you thought more about what I asked?” she prompted.
“Elowen.” Her mother spoke reprovingly. “Don’t interrupt your father’s conversation, what will the duke and the guild master think?”
“It’s all right, Lisbeth.” The king raised a hand to the man whose name Elowen didn’t know, directing the next words to him. “I understand your concern, and investigation into the situation will continue.” He looked at the duke. “Do you have anything to add, Your Grace?”
