They were right, of course.
Clarysa sighed, for there was no guarantee he would come. He hadn’t showed the month prior, but it wasn’t a surprise considering the stunt he had pulled at the wedding. The memory never failed to bring a smile to her face. What an exhilarating experience! She regretted it had ended so quickly.
After he left, Clarysa had wandered the castle halls as if in a stupor. Sleep came only at dawn, and brought passionate dreams of one dark, handsome prince. Who could have known her destiny lay with a dark, mysterious sorcerer? At least, that’s what she hoped. Since she wouldn’t be allowed to visit Vandeborg to see him, she did the next best thing.
But the waiting had been interminable. And when Stellan had failed to make an appearance at the last hunt, the intervening days until the next were unbearable. Clarysa could deal with her sisters’ teasing and Edward’s staid lecturing about appropriate behavior. But to never see Stellan again…well, that was unacceptable. She would have to stir up another plan if today were no different.
She stood and adjusted her dress. It was meant for show only as she would not be hunting herself. Her father had laid down that condition quite clearly. Clarysa had chosen a formfitting jade piece with a plunging neckline and flowing skirt–green to herald the burgeoning summer season, and plunging to herald the Dark Prince’s arrival. Clarysa giggled at the thought.
This particular dress flattered her figure. Prior to the wedding, the effect it had on others hadn’t mattered to her. But now she only wanted one man’s attention.
If he even came.
She left her reading spot and sauntered around. One of the cooks handed her a crisp vegetable pastry. Clarysa thanked him and idly munched. But her stomach felt jumpy with anticipation, and so she tossed the other half to the ground as she wandered.
With a sigh, she figured she might as well join in a game to distract herself. She aimed for Lionel’s group, which was currently engrossed in a darts competition.
Within moments the earth began to shake as hooves thundered behind her. Someone racing, perhaps? Clarysa turned around, and barely had time to jump out of the way of a rider and horse bearing directly toward her. A mighty black stallion roared past. The force of its gallop caused her hair and skirt to flutter wildly. Clarysa shivered as excitement pumped through her veins.
It was him–at last! She ran forward. A smile blossomed upon her face as a giddy thought formed. He must have read her mind using his mysterious magick and finally made the long journey to visit her.
The men crowded around as he dismounted, a sure sign of their enthusiasm. Lionel was the first to greet him. Clarysa pushed her way through the press of strong male bodies, eager to be the second.
At first, Stellan’s back was to her. The men plied him with questions about Pestilence. Had he encountered any more victims? Were any people infected? Which kinds of weapons were the most effective against it?
Having a priority of a different sort, Clarysa gestured madly for Lionel’s attention. Ignoring his companions, he guided Stellan around to face her. “Of course, you remember my cousin, Princess Clarysa?”
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He looked dark and dangerous despite the bright sun shining down upon them. “Very wonderful to see you again,” she said. She extended her hand, hoping Stellan would kiss it. But he only nodded, and a tight, quick nod at that. Her smile faltered as he looked away. Clarysa frowned. Did I say something wrong?
Lionel appeared confused himself, but covered it with a reassuring smile. “Off you go then, cousin,” he said, turning her around and giving her a light pat on her bottom. The men laughed. “It’s time for the hunt.” He lowered his voice as he escorted her a short distance away. “Get him alone at lunch. You’ll probably have better luck then.”
Clarysa nodded, fighting a lump in her throat. She hoped Lionel’s assessment was correct. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she walked toward the meadow’s edge, watching the men–well, watching Stellan, really–as they mounted and trotted off. His greeting left much to be desired, but she chalked it up to shyness. He lived an isolated life, after all.
Clarysa watched them leave. She strolled to and fro, practically wearing a rut into the hard earth while awaiting his return. Thoughts raced through her mind. What would be the best way to get a conversation going with him? What would he care to discuss? Should she pick a serious topic or light? Serious would show she had brains, but considering the stories she’d heard about his dismal living conditions, perhaps it would be better to start off with something frivolous. But then he might mistake that approach for the way she was all the time! Serious or light? Light or serious?
Finally she decided. Clarysa would start with a topic that was lightly serious. It would have to do. Unless, of course, a seriously light one would be better.
* * * *
Hours passed. The servants laid out a variety of side dishes on several long tables. Two large pits had been dug for the roasts. Meanwhile, the cooks were busy checking the fire’s temperature and adding spices to marinades in their usual persnickety manner.
“Here they come,” said one.
Clarysa hovered excitedly nearby. For once she didn’t care about the size of the game captured.
Shouts and laughter permeated the air as the hunters neared. They dismounted, and some walked into the forest to relieve themselves. Others tended to the horses, and five or six delivered the game to the cooks. Thirsty riders opened jugs of wine and passed them around freely. It had been a good hunt.
Clarysa spotted Stellan tending to his
