“He claimed he was angry with his employer, and wanted more power for the purpose of getting revenge,” King Ronan said. “But my investigator didn’t seem to find the reasoning convincing.”
Theo raised his eyebrows. Had the investigator met the employer in question?
“To speak frankly, Your Majesty,” he said, “I believe that the servant has truly been mistreated. Not by the duke, perhaps, but by the viscount. I’ve witnessed it myself on more than one occasion. And I’ve also seen evidence that the servant may have a grudge.”
The king ran a hand through his hair. “Lord Bertrand has always lacked his father’s polish, but that’s no justification for the servant to mount attacks on innocent towns across the kingdom.”
“Certainly not,” Theo agreed.
“It was a poorly thought through plan. He claims to have been trying to harness the magic, but that in each case it was more than he could manipulate.” The king shook his head. “So much destruction and risk to life for no benefit.”
“Unless he was trying to find a way to store the magic,” Theo reminded the king.
“Perhaps.” The king didn’t look convinced. “There’s nothing to suggest that yet, but he’ll certainly be questioned on the matter.”
“What will happen to him once the questioning is complete?” Theo asked.
King Ronan sighed. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But the whole affair is bound to be painful and distressing.”
Theo kept quiet, suspecting the king had no idea how close to home that distress would be.
“In any event,” the king attempted a smile, “let us think of more cheerful matters. A feast awaits us.”
“Yes.” Not feeling very festive, Theo followed the older man from the room.
Chapter
Seventeen
The celebration feast couldn’t come fast enough for Elowen. All afternoon she chafed in her rooms as her maids prepared her, her mind full of Theo. She’d been impressed by his performance throughout the morning’s fights. And what he’d said to Bertrand when he bested him…he’d won that fight for her. He didn’t care about the tournament, he never had. But he’d cared about her situation.
Elowen’s mind went back over their encounter that morning, when she’d told him her side of the story regarding the previous night. She’d been braced for him not to believe her or maybe not even to care whether it was true or not. But she’d wronged him when she imagined him acting with anything less than total honor.
Her maids commented on her flushed cheeks while they did her hair, and she let them believe it was the excitement of the tournament’s completion and the upcoming feast. Never would she have admitted that her senses were tingling with the memory of the anger and protectiveness Theo hadn’t been able to hide when she told him what had happened. She’d seen his hand flex as he walked away, and had wondered if he was goingto beat Bertrand with his fists. In fact, she’d been shocked to realize that a part of her wanted him to.
She hardly knew what to feel. She’d dreamed of someone with a romantic manner, and Theo simply didn’t have it, not even in that moment. Even then, he’d been doing all he could to hide his emotions. It was his actions that had spoken.
The readiness with which he acknowledged he’d been wrong in his assumptions and asked her to forgive him. The way his first thought was whether she was all right. His single-minded focus as he’d made it his mission to punish Bertrand on her behalf, and to warn him off attempting to impose on her again.
Those actions convinced her that Theo had emotions, strong ones. She hadn’t expected the reaction from him, and she didn’t deny that it had thrilled her all the way down to her toes. If anything, his actions were more meaningful to her without the gallant manner, because she knew they were genuine, and not designed to elicit a reaction from her.
Then he’d won, and she’d presented him with his choice. She’d been alarmed at the prospect of having to bestow a victor’s kiss in front of all those people, but that didn’t stop her traitorous heart from feeling a contradictory trickle of disappointment when he chose the handkerchief. She no longer knew what she wanted him to do, or how she wanted him to act. If he was acting according to the direction of her imagination, many things would have gone differently. But then he wouldn’t be him. And, she realized in a moment of honesty, he wouldn’t have awoken such fascination in her. There was still so much she didn’t know of him, and she could think of nothing else but learning it.
At the feast, they would formalize their betrothal. The only thing standing between them and marriage would be Elowen herself.
She had taken her place at the banquet table long before Theo finally appeared. When he entered, he walked just behind her father, and his expression was too somber for a tournament victor. Their eyes met across the room, a silent question in Elowen’s gaze.
Theo’s face softened in a subtle way she might once have missed but had now come to recognize. She felt warmth spreading up her neck as he strode to her side, taking his rightful place as champion next to the princess for whom the tournament had been called.
“Your popularity appears to have grown,” she told him, as several admiring cheers greeted his arrival from some of the more excitable of the young courtiers.
“Very gratifying.” Theo’s answering smile had a touch of humor in it, and Elowen chuckled.
“You fought very well today,” Elowen told him. “I was proud to have you as my champion.”
Theo said nothing, his eyes burning into hers with silent intensity. She’d tried to speak lightly, but somehow a hint of her feelings had crept in, and they suddenly seemed to be speaking about more than the tournament.
“Is everything well with you?” Theo asked, the words mild but a deeper sentiment behind them that made Elowen’s heart thud pleasantly.
