“Sophia, talk to me.”
Sophia bit her lip, her eyes troubled as they finally met Elowen’s.
“I can’t talk to you, because he won’t talk to me. I think something’s seriously wrong, but he won’t acknowledge it. He barely speaks to me anymore. And he’s…different.”
“Different how?” Elowen pressed.
“Well…” Sophia’s eyes drifted over the nearby jousting field, glazed and unseeing. “He always used to be so gentle, you know how he is.”
Elowen nodded. “One of the most patient and forbearing people I know.”
“But now every time I see him, he seems tense and almost…angry,” Sophia said. “I’ve never seen him like that before.” She hesitated, guilt crossing her face. “Bertrand has been giving him a hard time. Simeon’s always been so respectful to Bertrand, as he should be,” she added hurriedly. “But more recently, sometimes I see something on his face. Like he’s…”
Her voice faded, but Elowen finished the thought in her mind.Like he’s reached his limit.
“I have this fear,” Sophia went on, her voice constricted. “That Simeon is going to do something rash. Something he can’t take back.”
Elowen had no words of comfort for her friend. She was feeling her own trickle of fear that maybe Simeon already had done something he couldn’t take back. Theo’s words came back to her, as well as the altered manner she’d noticed herself in Simeon.
Surely Simeon wouldn’t,couldn’tcause these accidents. He was skilled in magic craft, yes, but he’d never use it for destruction. The dam failure especially had hurt his own region, the duke’s region, sorely. And the tower had almost fallen on Sophia, whom she knew he’d never want to hurt.
But Sophia hadn’t been near it when it started to collapse, had she? Only Bertrand had been. Discomfort swirled within Elowen. If anyone had reason to be tempted to hurt Bertrand, to hurt the interests of the duke and by extension his son, wasn’t it Simeon?
No. Simeon wasn’t like that. Elowen tried to shake the thought from her mind, but both girls were subdued as they watched the next round of the weapons combat from the stands.
There were two pools of fighters, competing in fields side by side, and Elowen’s seat was right in the middle, where she could watch both.
Theo was in the one on the left, and she watched rapt as he progressed. He was really very good. She was impressed. His general manner was more that of a scholar or diplomat than a fighter. She wouldn’t have guessed he had such wiry strength hidden beneath his somber demeanor.
Much as she admired his sword work, she gradually realized as she watched the two fields simultaneously that he wasn’t being matched against the best fighters. He was facing new opponents, but the two top favorites from the previous round of that group seemed to have dropped out altogether. It was surprising. Elowen hadn’t watched their whole round, but she didn’t think anyone in it would have defeated either of them.
Sophia’s attention was less focused on Theo, and she kept commenting on the progress of her brother in the field on the right. Elowen didn’t feel much interest in Bertrand’s prowess with a sword, but she listened as graciously as she could to Sophia’s celebration of his victories. They were barely able to stay until the end of the round, the last-minute gala requiring them to retire early to prepare. But they saw the listings, and that both Theo and Bertrand were in the top five of their groups and would progress to the final round.
Elowen dressed for the feast with her thoughts far away. She hoped nothing too tedious would be expected of her with the visiting dignitaries. Between the mess that was her betrothal and whatever was happening with Simeon, she had enough on her mind. Her mother had selected her gown for her, which a maid had laid over her bed. It was a full-skirted gown of a dusky pink silk, and the lacing at the back took her maid fifteen full minutes to complete to her satisfaction. Elowen’s hair took much longer, and she sat patiently as two assistants intricately braided it, then wrapped it in a complex crown around her head.
The result was good, she acknowledged to herself, as she studied the effect in her looking glass. The bodice of the dress was snug, its long lace sleeves tailored perfectly to her arms, and the expansive skirts swished pleasingly as she turned this way and that.
Surely Theo had to admire the effect. She tried to tell herself it was vanity to worry about that, but the question persisted.
She’d been summoned to attend the banquet hall early, to meet the visitors before the guests were invited to arrive, and she dutifully made her way through the castle as the sun was starting to set. When she entered the room, it was to find no visitors, but her family and Theo all gathered. Theo’s eyes flew to her at once, and she tried to keep her expression steady.
That was admiration. He’d tried to hide it—whyhad he tried to hide it?—but she knew it too well to mistake it. A flush of pleasure buoyed her up as she sailed across the room, and she greeted her family more warmly than usual.
“Who are these important guests?” she asked lightly. “Some stuffy old earl, or an opinionated diplomat?”
“Elowen,” Patrick said with a frown. “The prince and princess will be here any minute, watch your words.”
“Prince and princess?” she repeated, looking to her mother.
Queen Lisbeth nodded. “Crown Prince Cassius and his wife, Princess Flora, have just returned from a visit to Pulau. They informed us of their desire to cross Torrens on their way back to Carrack, so naturally we invited them to break their journey here.”
Chapter
Thirteen
“Prince Cassius and his wife?” Elowen’s eyes lit up. She doubted the pair were eager to be forced into a formal gala halfway through an arduous journey, but selfishly, she was excited. She was very curious to meet them. “The famous, scandalous pair,” she said, grinning at her mother.
“There’s nothing scandalous about the heir to the Carrackian throne and his lawful wife,” the queen said sternly.
