* * * *
“I don’t know.” Lionel sifted through a pile of tunics in his bedroom. “It sounds too risky, even for one who thrives on the edge such as myself.”
He and Clarysa had recently returned from a local bazaar. The room lay buried under an assortment of shirts, pants, and hats–a veritable rainbow of accessories. Presently he stood before a full-length mirror evaluating different combinations of colors and fabrics. “What do you think of this? Too outré, perhaps?”
Clarysa groaned, languishing away on his bed among a number of his purchases. It was the first time in three months that the King had let her out of the castle. Three long torturous months, according to his cousin. No letters. No verbal communications to be passed on or received. No anything. In fact, she had been allowed to visit Lionel only under the stipulation that he would maintain constant supervision. She was forbidden to leave his sight, except to sleep or bathe.
“But I have to see him! We won’t get caught, I promise. You’re too smart for that.”
“Perhaps,” Lionel said with a grin. He tossed a shirt aside purposefully so it fell on her head. “But I’m afraid flattery will get you nowhere in this particular instance. Besides, I’m keen to avoid any kind of royal punishment right now. Nothing must come between me and my bazaars.”
Clarysa threw the garment aside. “Lionel, be serious. I love him. Haven’t you ever been in love before, truly and deeply?”
Lionel mulled the question over for a moment. Looking at her through the mirror, he noted her pale face and grieved expression. It pained him to watch her deteriorate like this. Hair that had once outshined the sun now appeared listless and dull. Her appearance was sickly and thin from lack of appetite. Tears welled constantly in her eyes, especially when she thought no one was looking. I know the King’s been hard on you, but, well, he’s the King, as well as your father. What would you have me do? I can hardly fault him for trying to protect you, especially from yourself!
He gestured at her plain gown. “Well, if this is what it does to a person, you’re welcome to it.” He held up two pairs of pants. “Blue or magenta?”
Clarysa eyed him tiredly. “Blue.”
Lionel tossed the rejected pair onto a corner chair. “Be gone magenta, thou art cast aside by the command of her royal highness, Princess Clarysa.”
How he adored the bazaar! It had been a delightful morning, except when Clarysa would sniffle or lose her focus and stay endlessly rooted to one spot, staring off into space. Her morose display wouldn’t have been so bad if it she hadn’t repeated the show every five feet. Not so delightful. Even her favorite strawberry pastry puffs hadn’t been enough to lift her spirits.
“I’ll take all the blame if something goes wrong, I swear.” Clarysa changed to a kneeling position. Her voice trembled. “Please, Lionel! I’ve no one else to turn to.”
Lionel slowed as he tried on another shirt. Should he tell her he saw Stellan at all of the last three hunts? He had caught glimpses of the Dark Prince among the trees, but had not acknowledged him for fear Edward would find out–and possibly kill him.
Clarysa wiped away yet more tears. He couldn’t imagine what she was experiencing because this kind of heartbreak was so foreign to them, privileged as they were. But if she were anything like him–and she was–her emotions ran deep and strong. Clarysa may have had the disposition of a silly little foal more often than not, but she knew a good person when she saw one.
And she was attempting to protect Aldebaran by aligning herself with a sorcerer in a position to do something about it, even if her choice was an unpopular one.
The clothes and shiny trinkets lost their appeal for the moment. Lionel began to fold and put everything away. “Even if I arranged a meeting, Clarysa, what then? What about the future?”
She leaped off the bed and embraced him, leaning hard into his chest. “One meeting would be enough. I’ll figure out the rest later.”
“Yes, well,” he said, extricating himself from her grasp, “it’s still not going to happen overnight.” Hands resting on her shoulders, he regarded her solemnly. “Return home for now. Mope about as you have been. I’ll send word after everything is ready.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I hope you realize the position you’re placing me in, cousin–and the danger.”
Clarysa lowered her gaze and gave a quick nod.
Lionel continued softly, “Good. Because I’m not quite sure I fully understand the ramifications myself, although I don’t imagine they will be pleasant at all!”
Chapter 20
Stellan waited in a grove thick with birch trees, his obsidian cape billowing softly in the breeze. Nearby, a low-slung stone fence sloped toward the ground and disappeared beneath it, a remnant, perhaps, of a dwelling long ago. He stood in the shadows while Midnight grazed a few feet away. Wolfe paced in the woods around him, the only bodyguard he’d ever needed.
Glossy leaves covered the ground, still damp from a recent rainfall. In the horizon, fog crept across the hills of northern Aldebaran, effectively covering them in syrupy blankets.
Over three hours had passed while he waited, hoping Clarysa would come. Lionel had brokered the meeting weeks ago. Perhaps he had forgotten? Worse still, had Clarysa placed Stellan entirely out of her mind? She’d been absent from the hunts. Either she was being kept under lock and key, or she’d found a more interesting suitor. No doubt, a “normal” prince from one of the other kingdoms would be far easier to put up with than him. Stellan gritted his teeth, once again wondering why he’d placed such an unprecedented amount of trust in her.
Still, he wanted to believe. He risked his life by lurking in Aldebaran’s woods, but he didn’t
