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THEY JUMPED APART AS though they were locked in a lover’s embrace. But Laerwen couldn’t deny the warmth that cascaded through her as his hand closed on hers. She looked into those mesmerizing pale green eyes and wanted to know him. Wanted to see what he was all about. Wanted to learn all his deep, dark secrets.
She didn’t know why. She had never had that reaction with a man before.
Andahar’s servant, Leopold, entered with Lord Randir on his heels.
“There you are,” Randir said, his voice full of relief. “When I couldn’t find you, I feared the worst.”
“Prince Andahar, this is Lord Randir of the clan emul’Valahuir. He is my betrothed and was visiting the Hin’dar Rhule when we were attacked. His people were also killed in the attack.” Laerwen introduced him as her betrothed because she knew that’s what he wanted. That’s what he insisted upon. Though why they were still betrothed, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter anymore. Their marriage would do nothing for her vanished kingdom.
For a brief moment, she thought she saw a shadow of jealousy pass across Andahar’s face. Which would have normally made her laugh if she hadn’t been in such a state of exhaustion. Her nerves were raw with emotion. Talking to the prince about the king had nearly been the catalyst that made her crumble into a thousand pieces. All she could think of was at least he still had his father. While she was now nothing but an orphan.
The two men sized each other up. Randir straightened and puffed out his chest. Andahar had suddenly turned stiff and formal.
“Pleasure to meet you, Lord Randir. You have my condolences on your loss.”
She resisted the urge to explain to Andahar their betrothal meant nothing to her. She didn’t know the man. Not really. She was marrying him out of duty and responsibility. Not because she was in love with him. Why she wanted to tell the prince all that, she had no idea.
“I’m afraid the entire incident has made me worry for the princess. She’s quite fragile you know.”
Laerwen stared at him as though he’d grown a third eye. Was he mad? What would make him say such a thing? She was far from fragile and hadn’t allowed herself to fall to pieces when she learned the death of her parents, though that’s all she wanted to do. Her pain and anguish during the fortnight they’d traveled to the Woodlands had been closely guarded so no one—not even Hiram or Randir—would see it.
She kept her outward appearance as one of calm while inside she tamped down the hysterics that so wanted to control her. Grief was a constant companion and it was only when she was alone she allowed her feelings to surface so she could deal with the loss of her kingdom, her parents, her people. All the while fending off Randir’s subtle advances.
Randir moved to stand next to her and clasped her hand. Did he think they would continue to marry even after she’d lost everything? He was only marrying her for her title and her kingdom. Why would he still want her?
“I’m quite protective of her in light of recent events.”
Ah, so that was it. He was showing Andahar he was the alpha male and she belonged to him. Almost as though he were marking his territory. She belonged to no man, betrothal or no.
“As you should be. I’m sure the entire ordeal has been difficult. I know I’d want to keep the princess safe if I were you.”
She could see the visible tension in Andahar’s neck, shoulders and arms. Irritation emanated off him in waves. Randir stiffened beside her, his hand closing into a tight fist. So tight his knuckles turned white.
She jumped in before they came to blows over...her? That was silly. “It has been difficult and I’m quite tired. Prince Andahar, I’d like to take you up on that offer of a hot bath and a bed.”
Randir’s chest puffed out even more. He nudged forward, putting himself between her and the Wood Elf. She wanted to roll her eyes. But Andahar wasn’t even flustered by his behavior. He gave her a sincere smile.
“Of course. Leopold, please make sure her highness and Lord Randir have appropriate accommodations.” Then to her he said, “We’ve prepared a feast for you. After you’ve had time to rest and clean up, mayhap you could join us?”
“We’d like that.” It was Randir who answered for her.
She suppressed a scowl.
He pinpointed Randir with his pale green gaze. And then, as he kept his eyes on her betrothed, he reached for her free hand. Her heart stilled and her breath caught in her throat as he bent and placed a delicate kiss on the inside of her wrist. It sent delicious warm spirals through her, leaving her skin tingling where his lips had touched. When he straightened, a lock of silvery hair fell across his forehead and her fingers twitched. All she wanted to do was brush it away but she didn’t. She kept still and rigid.
“I will see to it your people are well cared for, your highness.”
Warm shivers went through her again and her skin still had not stopped tingling. The breath she held shuddered out between her lips. Randir turned his head to glare down at her but she didn’t care if he noticed or not.
“I greatly appreciate that.”
She granted him a smile as she followed Leopold from the king’s private chamber, through the throne room and into the corridor.
“He’s quite generous, isn’t he?” Randir asked as they walked through the hallways.
“He has my utmost respect for granting us refuge in his kingdom.”
“Is that all he granted you?” Randir cast a sideways glance of suspicion.
Her lips pressed together as her jaw tightened. She knew what he implied and she didn’t appreciate it. “Aye. That is all.” She enunciated each word, her tone hard and unforgiving.
“Here we are,” Leopold announced. Mayhap glad to be rid of her. “Your chamber, your highness.”
“Thank you, Leopold.” She backed into the door, bumping it open with her rear and standing in the doorway. “I’m sure you can follow Leopold to your own chamber, Lord Randir, can’t you?”
Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door with a snap.
It was a slap in the face. She saw the expectant look on Randir’s features. As though he meant to share her chamber. Her bed. Her skin tightened with revulsion at the thought. She knew she’d insulted him by not allowing him inside. Betrothed or not, she was still her own person and she wasn’t ready to share anything with that man. They hadn’t even shared as much as a kiss. Why would she allow him to room with her?
She pressed cold fingers against her lips. Gods, the prince was gorgeous. She had never seen another quite like Andahar. With all that silvery hair long enough to touch the collar of his tunic. It looked thick and soft and she desperately wanted to run her fingers through it. And those eyes! They rivaled that of the most precious jade jewels in the Hin’dar Rhule. She had never seen eyes quite that shade of green before.
When he kissed her wrist, it was like a brand. She rubbed her fingers over the spot. His lips had been like velvet and she couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel against hers.
A sharp knock on the door startled her out of her reverie, making her jump. She opened the door and several servants brought in a copper tub. They filled it with steaming water. Two girls set about building a fire in the huge fireplace across from the bed. Another group of girls came in with a giant trunk and placed it near the foot of the bed. She dismissed them, though, wishing for solitude. They each curtsied to her before leaving her alone with the steaming tub.
Laerwen removed her hair covering and dropped the gauzy material on the bed then stripped. She was grateful to be out of the sweat and blood-stained clothes. Grateful for the hot bath. She stepped in and let the water sluice over her skin as she sank into the tub.
She languished there until it was cold. Until she was forced to step out and dry off with the thick towels the girls left her. For the first time in days, she was clean. She wrapped the cloth around her and combed out her long wet hair. As she did so, she toed open the trunk, kicking off the lid.
Inside were miles and miles of material in fabulous colors—garnet, sapphire, chocolate, onyx.
How drab.
She was used to wearing bright colors—orange, yellow, teal, fiery red. Plus these were gowns. Not her native sari. She frowned. She dug through the trunk until she came upon a gown the color of sunset. This could work but it still wasn’t what she wanted. She would need help. She tossed the garment on the bed as she headed for the door and cracked it open. Peering out, she saw her door was guarded by two Elven soldiers.
“You there. Get me the royal seamstress at once.”
When he nodded, she closed the door. All that was left to do was wait.
A short time later, the royal seamstress arrived with a crisp knock on the door. Laerwen didn’t want to put on the soiled clothes she’d traveled in, so she’d pulled on the sunset-colored gown. It was form-fitting and clung to her curves, something she wasn’t quite used to. The sleeves were long and wide and the skirt had a short train that trailed after her when she walked. With a scooped neckline, it plunged a little lower than she was accustomed.
“Princess Laerwen.” The seamstress dipped a curtsey. “I’m Nell, the royal dressmaker. How may I serve you?”
Laerwen ushered her inside and closed the door. “I’d like some clothes made, if you please. Something that is more traditional than these gowns.”
“More traditional, your highness? You look ravishing in that color. It does well with your beautiful complexion.”
“My apologies. I meant more traditional for my clan.” She motioned toward the discarded clothing on the bed. “Something like that. Except without all the jewels of course.”
“May I?” At her nod, Nell reached for the blouse and held it up, giving it a critical once over. “I believe I could have something like this made.”
“And this? This is a sari.” Laerwen held it up. “It goes over one shoulder.”
“Aye, I could make that.”
“Wonderful. And the colors should be bright and cheerful. Yellows, reds, oranges and the like.”
Nodding, Nell said, “We have material such as that. I’ll have the ladies get started on making you some suitable outfits right away.”
“Thank you. There are a few more things I require, if you can accommodate me.”
She gave an elaborate description of the trousers with the wide legs and a long tunic that hit mid-thigh. Nell listened intently, nodding with understanding. Laerwen could see Nell’s mind working as she described what she wanted. Then the lady scooped up her skirt and top and, before Laerwen could stop her, picked up her mother’s tattered veil that had seen better days.
“I’ll get rid of these for you, Princess, since they’re so soiled.”
“No, wait.” Laerwen’s heart pattered wildly as she jerked the veil from Nell’s hands causing her to drop the rest of the clothes. She didn’t hide her look of surprise as Laerwen blushed and clutched the veil to her chest. “My apologies but this veil is very dear to me. I wish to keep it.”
Nell blinked understanding and then softened, giving her a brief smile. “Then allow me to have it cleaned for you, Princess. I will personally see to it and make it good as new.”
“You can do that?”
She nodded. “I can.”
Laerwen relinquished the veil back to her after a moment’s hesitation. But Nell assured her she would make sure it was well cared for.
“I will, of course, pay you for your services.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Nell said. “You’re under the prince’s care now. He’s instructed me to make sure you have all that you need.”
“He has?” It was Laerwen’s turn to be surprised.
With a nod and a smile, Nell left her to begin sewing her new clothes. Prince Andahar was turning out to be quite a surprise indeed.
Her stomach rumbled with her hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate.
Laerwen stepped out into the hall and paused there, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to recall which way to go. Then she spotted Andahar heading her direction, which saved her from having to speak to the guards who merely gave her sideways glances. They weren’t exactly conversationalists and anyway, they were not her men—they were Andahar’.
The prince’s step faltered a brief moment when he saw her before he started toward her again. A slow smile spread across his handsome features and her silly heart skipped a wild beat.
He was dressed in finery—a royal blue tunic trimmed in gold, black pants and knee-high black boots polished to a high shine. His sword swung at his side. And that silvery hair fell across his forehead as though in invitation. Those jade eyes reflected the torchlight in a way that made her want to never look away. Gods, he was beautiful for a man.
He halted in front of her and he didn’t bother to try to hide his appreciation of her new clothes. He gave her a small bow. “Princess Laerwen,” he greeted. “May I say you look ravishing in that gown?”
Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t stop the flush that crept over her cheeks and throat. “You may.”
“I understand you made use of the royal dressmaker.”
“Aye. I do hope that’s all right.”
“But of course. Nell and her group of seamstresses are some of the best in the kingdom.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Her fingers twitched, dying to brush away that lock of hair that curled over his forehead. “I’m glad they could be of service. My kingdom is yours. While here, you and your people will want for nothing.”
“You are most kind, your highness.”
“I would be honored if you’d call me Andahar.”
His given name? A spark of desire ran through her. “As you wish.”
“I’ve come to escort you to dinner. You must be famished.” He held out his arm to her.
She glanced down the hall, looking for signs of Randir.
“He’s already made his way to the dining hall,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “I saw him earlier.”
With a faint smile, she slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and he pulled her close. His body heat radiated over her, warming her. Charming her.
“I am, actually. Thank you for all that you’ve done. I do hope it’s not an imposition.”
“Not at all.” Andahar gave her a sideways glance full of heat and need.
She had to keep steady. Not allow herself to be pulled in by his good looks and his charms. She had to keep him at a distance. It was for the best. After all, by the laws of her land, she was still technically betrothed to Randir.
“How’s your father?”
“No better. Though he’s no worse, either. I suppose that’s something.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help. I’ve always admired King Urdithane. He’s always very no-nonsense.”
“His illness has been difficult for everyone. Especially my sister.”
“It’s often hard on the only daughter.”
“My sister has a special ability. She has visions of the future. She told me what would happen to him and I wouldn’t listen. I blame myself.”
“I’m sure it’s not your fault.”
“But I could have prevented it from happening if I’d only listened to her.”
“Sometimes fate cannot be changed, Andahar.”
He halted and looked at her. Smiled. “I do like hearing my name on your lips.” His gaze dropped down to her mouth before meeting her eyes again.
Her blood warmed at the small gesture. Making her cheeks heat and she worried he would see her blush. But he seemed not to notice. She knew there was an attraction to him and, she hoped, him to her. Now she knew that was not simply a figment of her imagination. It was real.
“Come. Let us dine together. The others are waiting.”
He led her into the dining hall. It was crowded with people and right away, she spotted Randir and Hiram. And they spotted her. They both had a chance to bathe and dress in clean clothing of the realm. A dark glower covered Randir’s face when he saw her on the prince’s arm. Andahar must have seen his dark look too for he released her and gestured toward the room.
“Here we are.” He granted her another knee-melting smile.
But she wasn’t so ready to be gone from his side. “I’d be delighted if you’d introduce me to your sister.”
“Of course.”
He led her deeper into the room to a young, fair-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes. She stood next to an ox of a man who was clearly human. It was odd to see a human in this realm. They were often not wanted or welcome.
“My sister, Princess Allanna and her husband, Sir Drake. I present to you Princess Laerwen of the Hin’dar Rhule.”
Allanna curtsied as Sir Drake bowed low. The princess took Laerwen’s hand in hers and stepped toward her. Her eyes bright and clear. “We’ve heard much about you, Princess. Welcome to the Woodlands.”
She glanced to Sir Drake. “You are human.”
“I daresay I am.” He flashed a broad smile. “I hope that doesn’t bother you, your highness.”
“Sir Drake came from the human realm and helped the Fae and the Elves fight numerous battles,” Andahar said. “We’re grateful for him. I’m afraid fighting those battles is how he won my sister’s heart. She couldn’t bear to be parted with him and so he remains.”
“Aye, my brother speaks true.” Allanna flushed, moving closer to her husband and giving him an adoring look. “Sir Drake is one of the very few humans allowed in our realm.”
“There are more?” Laerwen asked. It was most unexpected.
“Sir Finn and his wife, Maggie, have returned to his time,” Andahar explained. “She is with child.”
“Sir Finn?” She met Andahar’s gaze, those crystalline eyes seemed to penetrate right through her.
“Another knight who honored us by fighting with us. And another tale for another day. There is a great deal you do not yet know about the Woodlands or the Fae. When the time is right, I do hope you’ll allow me to brief you on that.”
She wasn’t sure what had transpired in those few moments but suddenly her body tingled with anticipation. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she was glad for the long sleeves so he wouldn’t see. And was it hot in here or was that simply her imagination? Laerwen sensed Randir’s presence before she saw him. He moved to stand next to her, his arm sliding around her shoulders. Andahar eased away from her.
“Princess, I have to say that gown is quite becoming.” Randir looked down at her, his eyes fixing on the low-cut neckline.
She resisted the urge to fidget, forcing her fingers to remain still at her side. It seemed everyone had the same opinion about the damn gown and she’d be glad to be rid of it as soon as possible.
“Thank you. Prince Andahar, I’m sure you remember my betrothed, Lord Randir.” She introduced Allanna and Sir Drake to him. He shook the knight’s hand and kissed the princess’s.
“I’m honored to make your acquaintances,” he said.
“I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m famished,” Andahar announced. “Shall we make our way to the tables? I’d love for you to sit at the high table with me, Princess. You and Lord Randir would be my honored guests.”
“We’d be delighted,” she said before Randir could object. And she knew he would. He had opened his mouth to do that.
Andahar waved them toward the table and then made his way there. Randir took Laerwen’s hand and folded it into the crook of his elbow as they followed.
“He seems quite taken with you,” Randir said.
“Aye, he does.”
She liked it. More than she should. She was quite taken with him as well. With those gorgeous green eyes and all that silvery hair. She could see the family resemblance between him and Princess Allanna. They shared the same pointed chin and high cheekbones.
“I don’t like it.”
He wouldn’t. He still claimed her as his own. “He’s merely being friendly.” But she knew it was more than that. The spark between them flared bright. She knew there was something there. Something that begged to be explored.
“He should back off,” Randir said.
“Or you’ll pummel him?” She glared at him. “Leave him be, Randir.”
Understanding stained his features. “You like him.”
She huffed and jerked her arm free. “That is none of your concern.”
“Don’t play me for the fool, Laerwen.” His tone was sharp and commanding. It sent a chill up her spine. She had never heard him speak to her that way before. “Tread carefully, Princess.”
“Or what?” she demanded. “What do you plan to do? My guess is nothing. Any hostile move against the prince is a hostile move against the kingdom and I won’t have you putting what’s left of my clan in jeopardy. Not like that.”
Randir’s hand gripped her upper arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. “But you are still betrothed to me. Never forget that.” His eyes were hard. Cold. Icy. “Never.”
“How could I when you won’t let me?” She shoved away from him. “Do not threaten me, Randir. Our betrothal was null and void the moment the Fomorians destroyed the kingdom. You have no claim left on me.”
“That is not what the laws of the land say and you know that.”
“Aye, but the laws of the land did not account for total annihilation now did they?” she snapped. “You cannot say that you love me, Randir, for I know different. Our marriage was one of arrangement for the good of the kingdom. And since the Hin’dar Rhule has been destroyed...well, I doubt there is any reason to continue with the betrothal.”
“You act as though all hope is lost and I know that’s not like you.” He stepped closer, his voice a low timbre so only she could hear. “I also know that means you want something else. Or should I say someone else?”
“You are a fool, Randir. There is much rebuilding that must be done before the kingdom can become whole again. And before we can do that, the Fomorians must be destroyed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I intend to join our host for dinner.”
She turned on her slippered toe and headed for Andahar. But Randir had shaken her resolve. It was clear to her he would not let her go so easily. She would speak with Hiram soon to see what could be done. As she took her place next to Prince Andahar, a servant filled a silver goblet with wine.
Grateful for the drink, she snatched it up and drained the cup. Licking her lips, she replaced the goblet to allow it to be filled again.
“Everything all right?” Andahar asked, one brow raised in concern.
“Aye, I’m fine. Thank you. It’s kind of you to ask.”
Randir joined them a moment later, sitting on the other side of her. He leaned across her and glared at Andahar. Andahar, in turn, glared right back. Unflustered. Like two hellhounds about to get into a pissing match.
Laerwen knew this would be a very long night.