Betrothed (12 page)

“Leave it,” Seri snapped, and the girl did, scurrying out of the room.

Turning in her bed, she pulled the covers back over her face and fell into an exhausted slumber.

Chapter Six

She did not wake until the sun was nearly set in the sky, a sight which dismayed her. The Athoni nobles kept odd hours, and the fact that she’d now have to spend most of the evening in their presence was a disturbing one.

Someone knocked at her door and entered, and she sat up in bed, stifling a yawn. Surely the prince would not come to her private rooms? But it was only Idalla, dressed in a maidservant’s gray dress and beaming a smile at her. “Are you awake, Princesse?”

Seri watched the servant as she entered the room carrying a small tray, which was filled not with food but with toiletries—a brush, a pitcher of water to wash her face, and cakes of the pretty, scented soaps that Lady Mila had enjoyed so much. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid out, moving to take the tray from Idalla’s hands.

The maidservant took a step backward, scandalized. “Princesse!” She glanced around, making sure no one else noticed, then leaned in. “Please, my lady, let me serve you. Not the other way around.”

An irritated protest rose in her throat, but Idalla had a worried look on her face, so she quieted and let the woman lead her to a nearby stool as if she were an invalid. Idalla then poured water so Seri could wash her face with one of the clean, pretty towels. Once that was done, Idalla dampened her hair and began to twist it into one of the ornate braided coronets favored by the ladies of the Athoni court, chattering all the while. Seri didn’t pay attention to Idalla’s words—she was more interested in the constant stream of servants who entered and left her room, all bringing items or cleaning the room after her. She’d never have a moment’s peace again. A weary sigh escaped her.

Idalla’s hands froze in their spot above her head, and the same worried look crossed her face. “I… have I offended you, Princesse?” Shame made her face flush red. “Shall I go back to the kitchens?”

Forcing a smile to her lips, Seri shook her head, wondering how the great, snobby ladies of the Athoni court handled their servants. Obviously not the same way she did, judging by Idalla’s reaction. “I am lost in thought. Forgive me. Please, you are not a bother.” She smiled approvingly at the completed braids on her head, ignoring the fact that the intricate creation listed to the side and seemed uneven. Idalla was doing the best she could. “You did a lovely job.”

The servant began to wring her hands, clearly uncertain. “But, Princesse—”

Seri leapt to her feet, keeping that same happy smile on her face. “Can someone bring me something to eat? I’m starving.” A nearby servant looked startled at her words and exchanged a glance with another servant, this one with a more ornate apron, a belt with housekeys on it, and a forbidding scowl on her face.

The woman—the head of household, if the fear the other servants gave her was any indication—approached Seri. “No food in your chambers, Princesse. The prince has instructed that you are to dine with him this evening.”

“And you are…?”

“Mistress Anaeve.” She gave a crisp nod and waved one of the servants forward. “Help the princesse with her dress.”

A chambermaid approached with a handful of corsets, and Seri nearly groaned at the sight.

So the prince intended on trussing her up to parade in front of his court again, did he?

She’d see about that.

Calm, Seri pointed at the starchy petticoats and gave the timid maid a smile. “Whose are those?”

Hatchet Face Anaeve looked startled and stepped in front of the cowering servant. “Pardon?”

“Who do those clothes belong to?”

The housekeeper struggled to keep her face calm. “They belong to you, Princesse.”

“Not hardly.” Seri pulled the undergarments out of the girl’s arms and tossed them on the ground. “I won’t wear such things.”

Anaeve sputtered. “Every good Athoni woman—”

Seri quirked an eyebrow, challenging the woman. “Indeed.”

The mistress tried a different tactic. “You will need the corsets for the court gowns to fit over your figure.”

Seri kept her face calm. “Then I shall not wear the court gowns.”

Mistress Anaeve looked shocked at Seri’s words. “What shall you wear?”

“Whatever I choose, I imagine.” It was far too fun to bait the woman, and Seri couldn’t resist.

“I shall inform the prince of your mutiny,” she said, her voice outraged.

Seri’s look was cool. “Do that.”

She didn’t say a thing when the woman dropped into a quick bow and then exited the room, huffing and angry. As soon as Mistress Anaeve was gone, the tense maidservants focused their eyes on Seri.

“Shut the door after her, please. And someone bring me something to eat.”

The servants hesitated, but only for a moment, then moved into action. One left the room, and another shut the door behind them, leaving Seri alone with Idalla and two others.

Idalla gestured to the two uneasy girls, both who looked to be younger than Seri. “This is Vya and Kiane. They have been chosen to be your wardrobe maids.”

Both dropped into a curtsy, and Seri resisted the urge to curtsy back. She was the one in charge, and she had to remember that or they’d all try to treat her like that horrible Anaeve had. “Well, ladies,” she said. “Shall we see if we can find something that fits without the corset?” She smiled.

Within a half hour’s time, Seri stood atop a small stool as the two girls stuck her with pins and chattered excitedly. They’d lost their shyness somewhere between the first fitting and when Seri bit into a loaf of bread and began to use it to point at the clothing. For some reason, the sight of her eating put the girls at ease. After that, they began to babble like the girls in the village, and Seri smiled as she listened to them argue over what fabric would be best for her skin. They reminded her of her sister, Josdi.

She hoped that Rilen was taking good care of Father and Josdi and then shoved the worry aside. Rilen had promised he’d take care of everything, and he would.

They’d fitted two of the uncomfortable dresses to Seri’s uncorseted figure. The dresses had needed to be let out in the bust, but not much elsewhere. Farming and hard work had kept her lean and trim, and the servants had judged that the corsets were not in fact needed, though the soft lines of her figure were definitely noticeable.

In back of her closet, they’d discovered enormous swaths of heavy red silk brocade—her wedding dress.

She stood in it now as the girls continued to work and nibbled on an apple. The front of her dress was in pieces still, and they stuck her with needles as they worked on cinching the waist so it wouldn’t wrinkle in the wrong places. Near her feet, Vya pinned the hem, so she had to be careful not to move and startle the girl.

This wasn’t so bad if she could spend the evening with the servants. They were normal, not like the annoying Athoni nobles who did nothing but sneer at her.

Of course, they were all terribly startled a few moments later when a knock came at the door and then it was bashed open by one of the prince’s guards.

The chambermaids screamed, but Seri managed to keep calm, arms crossed over her chest to keep the dress around her as it threatened to slip.

Prince Graeme entered the room, no expression on his pale, chiseled face, though the guards glowered enough for him. He strode in and halted at the sight of the half-dressed Seri on the stool, maids hastily bowing at her feet.

She did not bow. Rather, her chin lifted. “May I help you, my lord?”

He merely eyed her. “Your presence was requested at the dinner table a half hour ago.”

Seri remained quiet a moment, then decided not to hold her tongue. “I chose to remain here.”

“And may I inquire as to why you chose to deliberately disobey me?”

She adjusted the dress, wishing that her back were not quite so bare on the other side, the one facing the prince. If she turned now, he’d know she was anxious, so she forced herself to remain stock-still. “I do not belong to you.”

“Not for three more days, no.”

A scowl crossed her face as he approached, and he stopped near her feet, looking up at her. There was still no expression on his face, though his pale eyes glittered and she could sense his frustration like an itching, palpable thing. But he didn’t berate her in front of the guardsmen or her maids. Instead, he offered her his arm to help her down off the stool.

Wary and a bit surprised at the gesture, she took it, clutching the dress close to her.

“Would you prefer to have supper in your chambers, then?”

Seri hesitated. “Are you going to remain here with me?”

A faint hint of a smile touched his mouth, the first one she had ever seen, and it nearly stole her breath away. For a man, his beauty was staggering. Pale though his skin might be, his features were masculine and perfect, and his lips surely the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

I am going mad,
she thought and forced herself to look away. “You may stay if you like,” she said, her voice grudging.

The prince indicated that the guards should leave them, and the room burst into a flurry of activity. The maids ushered Seri behind a dressing-screen and proceeded to unpin her from her dress and change her into a breezy, flowing garment they called a “dressing robe.” It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever worn—nothing but ruffled layers of soft, silky fabric and one of those tight, chokingly high collars. But they deemed her acceptable to eat dinner with her companion, and in mere minutes she was left alone with him again, along with a new tray of food.

Instead of the meager cheeses and fruit she’d had before, it would seem that having the prince as dinner company merited chicken; tasty little fried vegetable pies covered with a thick, spicy sauce; and sticky dessert buns. Seri lifted one of the sweets off the serving plate and moved it to her own, licking her fingers. “Perhaps I should invite you to eat with me more often,” she said dryly.

Prince Graeme inclined his head. “If you wish.”

As she filled her plate and ate the delicious things set before her—she seemed to be constantly hungry lately—she noticed the prince did not move. He merely sipped at a goblet of water and regarded her through heavily lidded eyes.

Awkward silence fell between them, and Seri busied herself with eating, self-conscious that her manners were not dainty enough to sit with the prince. But he said nothing, and after she had tasted everything, she grew tired of the oppressive silence.

“My money?” Seri tugged at the annoying collar at her throat and grimaced. It itched like the very devil.

His eyes seemed drawn to that small movement, and he regarded her for a moment, distracted. “Pardon?”

Her hands slid back down to her lap and she clutched at the unused dinner napkin in her hands. Oh One Above, she’d licked her fingers while she sat in front of the prince, and hadn’t even used the pretty linen napkin given to her. She’d shame her people with her bad manners. Flushed, Seri tried to focus back on the stilted conversation she’d started. “You said you’d have your vizier see to my money.”

Recognition dawned on his face, and he gave a quick nod. “I will speak to him.”

Irritation flared through Seri, but she forced herself to remain calm outwardly, the only sign of distress the ever-subtle twist of napkin in her lap. “And my family? Have you spoken to your vizier about them?”

Graeme’s cool eyes regarded her. “Not yet. He is busy with details of the wedding.”

She fought the urge to throw the napkin in his face but bit her lip instead. If this was going to work, this plan of Rilen’s, she needed the prince to think that she was with him, that she was interested in the marriage, and to not suspect that she’d hidden a dagger underneath her pillow. “I see,” she said, her voice light. “When did you plan on having time for me?”

She meant it lightly, but the strangled tone of her voice came out all wrong. Seri knew she’d messed up when he quirked an eyebrow at her and said nothing, and so she cleared her throat and tried again. “What I meant… was… if we are to be married… do you not think we should spend more time together?”

Her request startled him, that much was obvious. There was no facial expression, of course, but she felt it deep inside him in that eerie connection they seemed to share now. The tight muscles around his mouth loosened a little, though he did not smile like before. “I regret that due to the details of the most important wedding in three hundred years, the specifics will keep us apart—mostly—until the day of our wedding. We shall spend more time together then.” His gaze focused on her again, rather intensely, and she felt the change in his emotions, a dizzying shift that made her nervously reach for her drink.

The feelings she felt from the prince weren’t scorn or hatred… they were something else. Something warmer. Something she hadn’t felt previously.

She drank deeply, wishing it was something other than just water.

It was his turn to break the awkward silence. He toyed with his glass, his posture elegant and easy and regal despite the fact they dined alone in her sitting room. “So tell me, what is the red outside your window for?”

Seri choked on her water. “I…I beg your pardon?” she managed between coughs, when he gestured at the window.

“The banner. You’ve had it up since yesterday.”

Oh god, what could she tell him? “It’s… a Vidari marriage custom,” she said, her voice still strangled.

But he only inclined his head in acknowledgment. “My people do not know much of your customs.”

She relaxed a little at that, on more comfortable ground. Good, steer the conversation away from the banner. “I confess that I only know of the legends of the Athonites that my people tell, and they are not flattering ones.”

“Legends?” He seemed interested. “Do tell.”

She shrugged. “That the Athonites are ageless warriors. That when they conquered the Vidari, they only attacked at night and would eat people, devouring them where they stood.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I imagine that it has been made more horrific over the years. Stories to tell little children to scare them to sleep.”