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Rian
I had almost kissed her.
Oddly enough, it was the fact that she had been trying to seduce me in her own naïve way that kept me from it. Never in my past had there been a reason not to give into my desires. I was a Christian now, and that made all the difference. Oh, I wanted the princess, and it would not have taken much for me to have her. But, the last woman I gave myself to had nearly destroyed my life. I never wanted to go back to that depraved state again.
Her father had most likely put her up to it. She had been too nervous to have been working on her own. What did he hope to gain? How could any man put his own child in this position? King Farris was using his daughter as a pawn in a game—one I was caught up in with no idea how to play. Just thinking about it caused the ever-present, invisible band to tighten around my chest.
I could not forget the sultry look of her dark eyes lit by the moon, the way her jasmine scent wafted around me, or the petal-soft feel of her lip on my thumb. My mind started to wander down a path that would take things further than they had actually gone. I began praying while I readied for bed. It was a trick I learned to deny my sinful nature—find something else to do, and give it over to God in prayer.
One thing was certain, the princess was not my usual type, which was probably a good thing. I had not realized I had a type until a friend pointed it out. He claimed I had a taste for cheap blonds with green eyes. He was not wrong. I had no desire to analyze the reason behind my preferences.
There had to be a way out of here. When I went outside on this night, the first thing I noticed was the guard on the path was missing. It made sense now. At least King Farris had not wanted a witness to his plans for me and his daughter. I was not fooled into thinking I could make an easy escape. If only I could get word to Reagan. If he or Garrett showed up, it would surely put an end to the old king’s plotting.
I dressed early the next morning and set out to explore the grounds. There still was no guard to be seen outside my door, and I wanted to find out just how much freedom I had been granted. What were the possibilities of me sneaking away?
The ground was frozen but it would turn back to slush before the day was done. I took a tentative step out onto the pathway just off from my veranda. The last thing I wanted was to end up back in one of the castle’s prison cells. Others traversed this mountain trail. Surely, I would be all right as long as I stuck to the path. Going left would take me in the opposite direction from the barracks. This was the direction I would need to go to get to the mountain pass that would take me into Gilvary.
Looking ahead, I could see two warriors huddled next to a brazier. I kept walking toward them as if that had been my destination all along. They eyed me nervously as I approached. One of the men looked alert while the other seemed about ready to drop. Both were too old to be standing out here in the elements all night.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
As expected, they only nodded without speaking.
I stepped past them just to see if one of them would follow. I could hear them parting ways behind me and then came the sound of boots and the thump of the ever-present staff against the frozen ground coming closer. So, I was still being guarded. I slowed my steps so the man could catch up.
“If someone stands guarding the castle every night, you would think there would be a shelter of some kind to protect you from the elements. How do you stand it in the dead of winter?”
“We are not guarding the castle. We are guarding you.”
I stopped on the path and turned to look at him. “You mean the castle is not regularly guarded? What if there is an attack?”
His brows drew together. The look on his face said I had asked the dumbest of questions. “You have spent too much time in Rivania. We’re at peace with the rest of Kearnley and with Cordelia. The only other way in is by sea, and we’d know before they made it as far as the castle. In the small chance that there’s an attack, you can trust that we’ll be ready. You just let the king worry about that.”
I turned and started back down the path. I had learned all I really needed to know. I was still being guarded, just not as closely as before.
The warrior’s attitude proved that me being a prince held no merit here. If I were king . . . why did these thoughts keep entering my head? I had no desire to rule. Well, that was not exactly true. As a child, I always pictured myself ruling like my father but knew that would be impossible since I was the youngest of five boys. Then when I realized my father was not the great man I pictured him to be, the dream lost its flavor.
My brothers and their wives came to mind, disputing my thoughts about ruling a kingdom. They were a true picture of what good, strong leaders should be. Unless things had changed, they held the respect of their people and depended on the Lord to guide them. I hated now that I had caused so many problems for Reagan and Gwen after the death of my parents. Hopefully, one day they would forgive me.
The chapel lay ahead to the left of the path. Its white steeple reaching up toward the sky faded into the clouds behind it. I veered off the path toward it. I had not been to services since leaving Rivania months ago. The building was probably empty at the moment—a perfect place to pray for guidance without distraction.
The odd thing about churches—you come in through the front door to find yourself at the back of the room. The sanctuary was dark but for the natural light coming in through the stained-glass windows. The guard stopped at the back pew while I made my way to the front.
I was nine years old when my father died and Mother became ill. Reagan took over raising me from that time until I ran away from home at the age of fifteen. He had insisted that I attend services even though we had never done so before. I hated it. In hindsight, it was not the services I had hated so much as the feeling of losing control.
Control over my life was what I thought I had gained by running away. Then a little over a year ago, a tragedy struck that out-shadowed all the rest. I realized then that God was the only one who would ever be in control. It was then that I surrendered my heart to Him.
Sitting there on the front pew, I poured my heart out to God. I thanked Him for bringing me safely thus far. I had felt the strong urge to come home. I was in Kearnley now, if I could just make it to Gilvary, everything would be all right. If it was in His plan for me to stay here a little longer, I prayed for Him to open my eyes to His purpose. Peace washed over me again, and again.
I was in the middle of praying for each one of my family members when a noise interrupted my petition. A tall man with dark eyes and salt-and-pepper hair walked in through the door behind the pulpit. At first, he seemed startled to see me there. He glanced at the warrior in the back of the room and then walked purposely toward me. I stood as he approached and shook his hand when he offered it.
“I am Liam Reeves, vicar here at the castle’s chapel. And you must be the captive prince.” He grinned good-naturedly as he sat down on the pew and gestured for me to do the same.
“That is one way of putting it, but I prefer to be called Rian.”
“Although I prefer my given name as well, everyone here calls me Vicar Reeves. I am glad to have caught you here. I’ve been wanting to meet you since I heard you were in Dermot.”
I gave him a pointed stare. “You could have introduced yourself while I was languishing there in Dermot’s prison. Or is that beneath your station?”
My rude words caused a prick to my conscience, but I had a hard time showing respect to a man representing God who would ignore the lowest of people.
“You are very direct. I like that. You may not know, but I am not allowed to visit the prisoners. In fact, I am not welcome at the castle either. The king and I do not see eye-to-eye when it comes to God’s will, among other things.”
God’s will. Those words brought to mind something Reagan tried to teach me during my time with him. After all these years, his words were still fresh in my memory. Rian, do not waste your time fighting against the plans God has for you. It will only bring you harm if you do. Though it was told to me many years ago, it was a concept I was just coming to understand.
The vicar folded his hands in his lap. “Since you are here, I hope I do not offend you further by asking, do you know Christ as your personal savior?”
“I am sorry if I was rude before. I am not offended at all, and yes, I just recently became a Christian.”
“Excellent. Is there anything you would like for me to pray about on your behalf?”
I sat back and ran my hand across my face. “I felt led to return home. I know it is what God meant for me to do, but now I am stuck here with no understanding as to why.”
“Sometimes we are given clues that we don’t notice until we start looking. Yes, you should pray for guidance, but in the meantime, think over everything that has happened since you came here and it may make His will more apparent.”
I glanced back at the guard and then leaned closer to the vicar. “The king wants me to marry his daughter.”
“Ah, I see, and how do you feel about the princess?”
If I were being honest with myself, I was attracted to her. Given time and my own free will, I could possibly fall for her. What was I thinking? Regardless of what her father said, I was still sure a better man waited in her future. I should not have to keep reminding myself of that fact.
“My biggest obstacle is not my feelings toward the princess. The king is trying to force things, and he wants it to happen now. I do not like being pressured into a loveless marriage, and why the hurry? If he wanted me to marry his daughter, what was wrong with just putting her in my path and letting nature take its course? You would think he would want better for her.” My frustration mounted with every word I added.
“I mean no disrespect, and I certainly do not claim to know the mind of the king, but he is no longer a young man. Maybe he wants to see things settled for the princess and the kingdom before . . . well, you know. Who better to sit on the throne than a prince? And from a godly point-of-view, who better to sit on the throne than a man of God?”
“Are you saying that it is God’s will for me to be the next king of Dermot?”
“I don’t pretend to know God’s plan for your life any more than I do the king’s, but it is something to consider.”
Leaning back in the pew, I studied the grain pattern of the gleaming hardwood floor in front of me.
“Is there anything else on your mind?”
I shook my head but my mind was no longer on the vicar’s presence. My thoughts drifted over everything that was said, along with everything that had happened since I arrived in Dermot. Did God really intend for me to marry the princess?
“I will leave you now.” The vicar clasped my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I hope to see you on Sunday.”
I stood at the same time he did. “Thank you for speaking with me. I trust that everything we said today will be held in confidence.”
“Of course.” He nodded his head and then left through the door next to the pulpit.
With no desire to linger, I headed back down the path toward the castle. I had roamed these grounds as a child when my family would come here for Session meetings. A part of me wanted to explore my surroundings, it chafed to do so with a guard trailing behind me.
As it was, I had a niggling worry that word would now get around that the king wanted me to marry his daughter. I had no desire for her to feel the shame of my rejection should it become known throughout Dermot and beyond.
I whipped around to face the warrior behind me, causing him to stop abruptly. “I do not suppose there is anything I can do to keep you from repeating whatever you overheard in the chapel, is there?”
His gaze darted away from my face. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Right.”
There seemed to be something about sanctuaries that caused sound to travel. I would not be surprised if he had heard every whispered word. Judging by his countenance, he definitely heard more than he was saying.
He rubbed the back of his neck and finally made eye contact. “I won’t say anything about it if you forget I told you about the castle’s lack of security.”
“Does the king still think I am a spy sent from Rivania?”
“I’ve no idea what His Highness thinks, but General Cormac doesn’t trust you, and that is enough for me.”
“What is your name?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Fair enough. You have a deal. It will be as if all conversations of the day never existed. Do you agree?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “What conversations?”
I smiled in answer before turning back to the trail.