Waiting For Spring
Chapter 13

“Who was that man?”

“Not here,” the captain answered gruffly, tugging me down another of the castle’s corridors in the familiar path which led to my room. He hadn’t said a word since he had led me from the ballroom and I was growing tired of his silence.

Lucinda followed diligently, the swishing of her skirts and the click of her heels felt disapproving as they trailed behind us. She wasn’t the only one on our tail. There were two more sets of footsteps, but Troy’s hurried pace had made it impossible for me to look back. I assumed it was another set of guards, probably those always tasked with guarding my door.

Sometimes, I wondered if they ever slept because on very few occasions had I ever seen anyone other than them guarding me. The silent one still hadn’t said a word. I was beginning to wonder if he was mute or if his silence was selective only to me.

“Troy-”

“Not here R-Lady Anne,” he hissed, pulling me down the last corridor where my rooms were situated. He rushed me inside, shutting the door firmly behind him after Lucinda was dismissed and the guards were in position.

The fire was dim in the sitting area, providing little light to the darkened room, leaving the room to be lit by the dull glow of the oil lamps fixed to the walls.

The captain made to lead me towards my bedroom, pulling the cord to ring for Marla as we went and I knew he was going to send me to bed, like an errant child who had misbehaved. He was going to refuse to answer any of my questions.

“No,” I sneered, pulling my arm free of his grasp and quickly putting distance between us. He was shocked for only a moment before his face fell into a mask and he held his arms tightly behind his back. A typical soldier’s pose.

“Rosie,” he began, but I was quick to end his attempts to placate me. I shook my head and raised my chin, defiance burning through my veins like fire through dry grasslands.

“I want to know why the king kicked me out of a ball he specifically wanted me to attend.”

“It’s not your place to question the king,” he answered monotonously. A practice edge to his words and eyes devoid of feeling.

“Why not? Am I not to be his future wife? Why shouldn’t I question him?” I spat, glaring up at the emotionless captain.

“He will tell you what he decides you should hear.”

“Why did he get angry at that man?” I asked, trying to divert the conversation before my anger had me acting as they saw me; as nothing more than a child.

“Lord Gregor is no friend to the kingdom. He is an ambassador to Gwendyln in the North.” I frowned at the mention of Gwendyln remembering Lucinda discuss it in one of my lessons, but all I could remember was that their crown prince’s name was Artema and he barely left the castle.

“That doesn’t explain why I was removed from the ball before I was even allowed to participate.”

“You were there to observe, Rosie,” Troy sighed, losing some of the stiffness in his shoulders as the weariness started to settle over him.

“It wasn’t my fault Alice ran me over.”

“You were drawing too much attention.”

“You mean I was embarrassing the king?” I shot back, feeling the fierce heat of anger start to burn my cheeks.

“You were making a scene. It was highly improper what Lord Gregor did,” I could tell from the tightness in the captain’s jaw he was barely restraining his anger. Whatever had transpired tonight had unsettled him, and I assume in turn that unsettled the king.

“You were the one that was worried about my missing shoe.” I huffed.

“He’s dangerous Rosie.” He finally snapped. Now we were getting somewhere.

“He didn’t seem dangerous,” I mused, pushing him a little further.

“You are naive and ignorant of the dangers he and his kingdom poses.”

“I am not,” I shouted, only a breath away from stamping my foot indignantly. The look Troy shot me after my outburst only reminded me of the truth behind his words.

“Gwendyln is a kingdom of slaves, and it has long been rumoured that rebels cross our borders and steal our people to sell in their slave markets. Their king denies it but James is no fool but our resources are depleted and any act to retrieve our people would be one of war. A war we have no chance of winning.”

“Then why allow Faraday to stay?”

“Politics is a series of well-calculated moves, not rash actions or burning of bridges. James wants peace within out realm on all sides. He can’t achieve that through endless wars.”

“Yet, he is at war with Paca over a lost Princess.” I challenged.

“He is not weak. Your kingdom owes payment for what Citra provided them. We will not be denied what is rightfully ours.”

“So gold is worth more than the lives of your people?”

“Our soldiers know what they are fighting for,” he finished firmly, his posture returning to the menacing captain of the guard as the door to my bed chambers opened to reveal a curious Marla.

“The princess is to retire for the night.” He instructed, and Marla nodded in reply, ignoring my glare and ushering my reluctant body into my room. I glanced back just in time to see Troy’s shoulders slump and his feet drag as he left my rooms. He muttered something to Mantai and his partner before the door fell closed and the familiar sound of the lock sliding into place filled the room.

“Come, your highness,” Marla ordered, and I was tugged into the room and put to bed before the moon had even had a chance to observe the night.

The night was fading into morning and still sleep evaded me. Marla had left me hours before, tucked tightly into my bed with nothing but the ceiling to stare at. I watched in frustration as the shadows of the trees outside my windows danced across my ceiling in the silvery light of the moon and I couldn’t help but think they even had more freedom than I did. Their roots were wound through the soil beneath them, and still, they were free to move how they chose.

Over the hours my anger had been simmering preventing me from giving over to much-needed rest, but every time I thought I might drift, I would hear the music weave through the castle and tap against my consciousness; mocking me.

Now, the castle was filled with the silence of sleep, and all I could think about was the mouth-watering banquet table Alice had prevented me from reaching. My stomach was rolling with hunger, and after the few weeks I had spent in the castle I was less tolerant to the pains of an empty stomach. Especially, when I knew there was ample food only two floors beneath me.

Slipping out from the soft, warmness of my bed, I moved across the room and pushed on the hidden door and watched triumphantly as it clicked open. I scooped the half-burned candle and tinderbox from my dressing table as I checked the lock to make sure my hairpin I had jammed in there was still in place.

While Marla had been preoccupied putting away my elaborate dress, I had silently broken the door so when it closed it wouldn’t lock like it usually did. Now, I was free to move about the castle with none being the wiser to how I escape.

Lighting the candle, I slipped into the cool, stone passageway and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then I was on my way. My bare feet were silent against the cold of the stones beneath them, but I found myself wishing I had thought to wear my slippers to stop my feet from turning numb.

The oil lamps along the walls had been dulled now that the castle was asleep and I felt safe to move without much caution until I stopped beside the well-worn door of the kitchen.

Slowly, I pushed on the door, the hinges giving way easily under my touch after many uses. Glancing around the room, I quickly determined that it was devoid of any servants and darted inside, headed straight for the worn wooden table in the centre that was gleaming with leftover sweets.

Apart from the sweets, the room was spotless, not a crumb in sight or a utensil out of place. The fire was burning down to its embers and beside it was a neat row of white aprons.

Once I reached the table, I surveyed its contents seeing all manner of treats. From chocolate cakes to strawberry and blueberry tarts. Scones of every flavour were dotted through the iced cakes and sweet slices making my choice almost impossible. Finally, I settled on a scone, smothering it in sweet jam before I shuffled over to the dying embers of the fire. I nestled myself on the rough, woven rug gazing listlessly into the flames as I nibbled on my prize.

Moments later I was startled from my reverie by the sounds of hurried footsteps and harsh whispers that quickly filled the darkness in the kitchen. In an instant, I was on my feet, and seconds later I had gathered my candle and was darting across the room. Dodging bags of flour and uneven stones on the kitchen floor as I attempted to reach my destination.

“Halt,” a familiar voice ordered, and I froze just as I was about to pull down on the handle of the secret passageway. “Don’t even think about it, princess.” He warned, and I let out a frustrated sigh as I slowly turned back to face the seething king.

My candle still held tightly in one hand while my other clutched the rest of my scone I hadn’t been able to finish before he found me. I had thought I would at least have until morning before anyone would come looking for me and by then I hoped to be tucked up in my bed like I had been there the entire time.

The King didn’t say anything else after his warning and instead glared at me from the top of the stairs that led down to the kitchen, his broad shoulders filling the staircase. I refused to be the first one to talk, so we both just stood there; staring at each other.

“James,” called the captain’s voice from somewhere behind the king and within seconds he was looking at me over his shoulder with a tired expression. That was when I noticed that the king and the captain were still in their fancy clothes from the ball and all I was wearing was a thin nightdress that had one too many frills for my liking. No matter how many times I complained, Marla always insisted that I wear it and I was certain more had been added.

I watched as Troy whispered something in James’s ear, the king’s gaze never leaving me. I felt like a caged animal under his gaze, eager to escape but having no chance of doing so.

When Troy was done talking, I watched as the king’s expression changed before he nodded in agreement. The captain’s expression relaxed over his shoulder before he turned from the room and left, giving me a strange parting look as he did but I didn’t have the chance to question it before the king was moving down the stairs and my body started to hum with anticipation.

However, when he reached the bottom, he didn’t walk towards me. Instead, he turned his back on me and walked towards the fireplace instead.

Confused, I watched as he built up the fire before he set a pot of water over the fire to boil. Then he proceeded to open cupboards and take out cups as if he spent all his time down in the kitchens. When he had everything he needed, he sat where I had sat on the rug before the fire with his long, lean legs sprawled out in front of him as he leant against a sack of sugar. I watched him for what felt like hours before he turned back to me with the flames from the now built fire casting shadows across the angles of his face.

“Come sit with me, Arlarose,” and for the first time, it felt more like a request than an order. Curious, I set my candle down, and my numb feet moved back through the path I had used to escape. Only stopped when I had returned to where the king was sitting, his eyes trained on the flames.

I stood beside him, mesmerised by the scene in front of me before the king reached up and took my hand gently in his.

Without realising a gasp escaped my lips and my eyes immediately found where we were joined. Something familiar passed through me as his calloused hand held my equally harden one in his. It engulfed my hand, making it seem impossibly small. It didn’t feel wrong to let him hold me, but there was something strange swirling inside me; a sensation I didn’t understand. One I had never felt before.

He gently tugged my hand, jolting me from my thoughts and pulling me back to the present. Instinctively, my body lowered itself to the floor beside him and quickly his touch fell away. I felt a chill pass through me despite the warmth of the now full fire and my forehead furrowed in confusion. What was happening with me?

Worried about where my thoughts might lead me, I shifted slightly from where the king sat, now pouring us both a cup of tea. I was struggling to fit the image of him being so gentle and kind with the king I had been met with up until this point, but it was hard to deny it when I was watching it happen.

“A-aren’t you angry?” I frowned, taking the offered steaming cup being careful not to allow our fingers to touch. I didn’t need a repeat of the sensations of when he held my hand.

The king chuckled quietly at my question, and I scowled at him for his obviously mocking laughter.

“I’m not angry, Arlarose,” he murmured, setting his cup beside his feet as he rested his arm against his raised knee in an overwhelmingly masculine pose.

“But I embarrassed you.”

“Miss Prowley has a history of creating a scene. There are very few debutantes that have stayed clear of her path of destruction.” He smirked, and I felt my heart flip in my chest at the casual gesture. It almost gave him a boyish look, far from the stoic expression he usually wore.

“How did you know I was here?” I ploughed ahead, trying to squash whatever was happening in my chest.

“I was meeting with my war council when Mantai came to see me.” I ducked my head sheepishly, ashamed that I hadn’t been as stealthy as I thought. “He heard the servant’s door scrape and had a feeling you hadn’t rung for your maids.”

“I was hungry,” I shrugged, offering my half eaten scone as proof.

“I realised I had sent you away before you had a chance to visit the banquet and when I called on Marla she said you hadn’t eaten anything when you returned.” I watched as he continued to gaze into the fire and although he was speaking with me, I couldn’t help but feel that his mind was somewhere else.

“I am sorry I had you removed from the ball tonight.” My eyes widened at his words, shocked by his apology and wondering if he had ever previously made one. He didn’t seem like a man that would freely admit to any wrongdoing.

“It was for your safety. I want you to know that everything I do is for your safety.” He finished, looking up at me with those warm brown eyes that almost seemed amber in the firelight.

My mind was blank as he watched me and despite my best efforts I was struggling to replace the words to express the torrent of questions desperate to be answered. I felt like I had fallen into a river after a rainstorm and there was no force that could stop it from flowing and no chance of pulling myself to safety.

When the silence seemed to stretch on, he shifted his gaze back to the fire before he spoke again.

“Did you ever wonder how you got your scar, Rose?” I frowned at my shortened name on his lips, one no one had ever used with me before, and despite that, it felt familiar. Everything about him felt familiar. Just like the first time I met him I had the overwhelming sense I had known him from some other place, some other time.

“Simon said it was in the fire,” I offered weakly and immediately regretted it when his warm brown eyes turned dark; almost as dark as the ashes in the fireplace.

“He was lying.” He replied cooly, clenching his fist as his arm that rest on his raised knee before his face seemed to fall back into stoicism again.

“I gave you that scar, on the night of your fifth birthday celebration.” He began, gazing distantly into the fire. “We were in your palace garden, and I was trying to convince you to go back to the ballroom before your father found us, but you refused. You were such a stubborn child,” he chuckled, deep in the memories of the past. My memories, if only I could remember them.

“You had climbed an orange tree. One my parents had gifted to you on the day of your birth. You had found a nest in the tree and were determined to see the baby birds inside.” That sounded about right. Simon had always said I spent more time on the limbs of trees with my head in the clouds rather than with my feet on the ground.

“I was eager to get you down and back into the ballroom, but every time you inched closer to the birds your dress would tear, and I knew any attempt to get you back was fruitless. When you fell, as I knew you inevitably would,” he smirked, casting me a sidelong look before he continued. “I tried to catch you, but instead we both ended up in a crumpled mess of arms and legs. When I finally righted us, I noticed that you were bleeding through your gown and there was a matching mess of blood on my decorative dagger my father had made me wear for the night.

“When you realised you were bleeding, you tried to be strong, but I’ll never forget the way your lip trembled or the way you held my hand. You had so much trust in me, so much faith that I would fix it.”

“Isn’t that what princes are meant to do?” I teased and without realising I had moved closer to his side until I could feel the heat of his body burning my skin almost as warmly as the fire we sat beside.

“Of course,” he smiled, and my heart nearly stopped. His smile was like an arrow to my chest; unexpected and fatal. “However, when your mother found us she was livid. I was a mess of tears as she carted you away before my own mother arrived and started to fuss over my cuts and bruises.”

“It sounds like you were very brave,” I teased, smiling up at the relaxed king.

“I took my duties as your future husband very seriously. As long as I can remember I was promised to you and my mother always told me that it was my job to make sure you were safe and happy.” He defended, mirth in his eyes at the memories of his younger self.

“Did we spend a lot of time together?” I asked, anxious to learn about a past that I couldn’t reconcile as my own. He may hold some familiarity, but his stories felt like they were of someone else; someone who wasn’t me.

“I spent every moment I could. When you were born, I was six, and I insisted that my mother take me to you immediately. I spent every one of your five birthdays at you palace until you disappeared.” Dark clouds seemed to settle behind his eyes after he mentioned the princess’ disappearance and I didn’t doubt the sorrow I could see there for the girl he must have cared for very dearly.

“I searched for you, Rose.” His voice almost broke when he spoke again. I had never seen him like this. I had never seen him so...vulnerable. “I was only eleven, and I rode to every hill and through every valley, town and field of your kingdom searching for you. I searched until my father commanded me to stop. He locked me in my room, Rose,” he implored as if he was trying to convince me of his dedication and when he turned to me with wild eyes, I couldn’t believe they belonged to the same king. I didn’t know what to say. There were so many emotions on his face it was impossible for me to decipher what they were or why they were there.

Then suddenly, like blowing out a candle, all his emotions were gone, and his eyes were cold, empty and emotionless.

“I should get you back to your room,” he announced, agilely rising to his feet in less time than it took for my heart to beat. He gathered the cups and my forgotten scone placing them in a deep trough by the window before he returned and extended his hand for me to take.

Belatedly, I placed my hand in his, frowning at the sudden shift in mood. Swiftly, he pulled me to my feet before he removed his heavy, blue jacket and rested it on my shoulders.

The shoulders of the jacket were stiff, and the numerous medals rested just below my heart which was beating erratically in my chest. His scent immediately overwhelmed me, and for a moment I was lost in all that was him.

“You shouldn’t be walking around the castle in your nightdress, princess Arlarose. It is highly inappropriate. No man should see you so underdressed.” I was stopped from answering by his hand that quickly wound my arm around his, leading me from the kitchens before I could even contemplate protesting.

We had already made it up a staircase and were well on our way back to my room before I finally gather my senses again.

“Did I do something wrong?” I frowned, anger bubbling in my veins as he continued to drag me through the castle. When he didn’t answer me, it only caused my fury to fester until there was no room inside me for any other emotion to grow.

Just as I was about to release a torrent of anger-filled words he pulled me to a stop in front of my doors.

“Goodnight Princess,” he dismissed as Mantai opened the door for me to enter. “I trust you will sleep well.” I didn’t look back to see the disapproval on his face. I was certain it matched the look on Marla’s face as she watched me from my bedroom door and I couldn’t stop the frustrated groan as I followed her back into my bedchamber.