“Father, I must protest Edward's madness. Prince Stellan comes to offer protection, and this is his welcome? A ridiculous display of arrogance and stupidity?” She motioned angrily toward her brother, now sulking in a dark corner. “How shall we greet the enemy when they are crawling up onto our door? By flinging the gates open and welcoming them inside? Because that’s what we’ll be doing if we ignore the Pestilence threat. Stellan saved my life, and Lionel’s, and countless others! How many more times does he have to risk his own before you’ll trust him even an ounce?”
Leopold stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Then he raised a hand for his advisors to circle round.
Clarysa inched closer to Stellan while they deliberated. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered.
Stellan only gazed at her, his expression unreadable. At least he was looking at her, but for how long? Clarysa wondered with a sinking feeling if he was simply being polite.
The King spoke. “Prince Stellan, I will grant you this temporary alliance, but only until this ‘Pestilence,’ as you call it, is eradicated from Aldebaran. Once the task is complete, the alliance shall be dissolved! Now come with me to the war chamber.”
Clarysa smiled triumphantly and held Stellan’s arm, intending to lead the way. Here was her chance to make amends!
But he refused to budge. “In a moment, Your Highness. With all due respect, there is one other matter I wish to discuss.”
The King sighed, but resumed his seat. He listlessly motioned for Stellan to continue.
The sorcerer’s black-gloved hand pushed Clarysa aside as he fixed his gaze on her parents. He did so without even a smile or a bow of the head. The act made her feel very small. Alone. No matter that the court overflowed with people, she might as well have existed in a void. Biting her lip, she backed slowly away as insight dawned. Stellan wanted nothing more to do with her–and he had made a public point of doing so.
Of course he intended to speak with her parents further. He would need financial support for his crusade against Pestilence. What folly to believe he had come for her as well. No, you’ve ruined everything, admonished the voice in her head. Edward was right, you’re nothing but a deceitful interloper. She remembered her spiteful plan soliciting Stellan to drug her parents, and the rush of shame prompted tears. Trapped within a cocoon of guilt, she couldn’t escape the damming thoughts. No wonder he left, you spoiled, immature brat!
Clarysa didn’t dare cause Stellan any more pain. She turned toward the court entrance. As she did so, her peripheral vision caught Stellan as he dropped to one knee. Yes, well, I suppose a healthy dose of humility will open our coffers wide for you. Farewell, dark sorcerer, and may the gods of fortune smile upon your quest. But her heart didn’t share in the diplomatic thought. No. Her heart was dying a slow, sure death, and she deserved every bit of it.
Tears ran down her cheeks, splashing over her trembling lips. As she reached the entryway, Stellan spoke. Clear and sonorous, his voice rang out. “I’ve also come to ask for Princess Clarysa’s hand in marriage.”
The onlookers’ response sounded three times more shocked than before. Clarysa halted, pressing a hand against her chest. Surely she had misheard.
She took a step forward and then paused. Hadn’t she? Because if not… She risked a glance over her shoulder.
“Never!” Edward shouted as he started for his sword again. “We’ll never admit the demon child of Renaudas into our family!”
Clarysa spun around. Damn you, Edward!
One of her sisters fainted. Meanwhile, Clarysa felt as if she were leaving her own body. Her breath all but vanished and she grew lightheaded. She stared ahead at the man in black, his head bowed in supplication. It took every last drop of self-control to prevent herself from careening about the royal court in excitement. She hadn’t heard wrong. Edward’s reaction was proof enough. In fact, things couldn’t have been more right. He wants to marry me! Joy slammed into her like an avalanche.
Her father, however, sputtered and choked like a dying torch. He passed a ring-studded hand over his face. “Young prince, you…you ask far too much of me. Far, far too much.”
Clarysa immediately snapped to and fastened her gaze on her father. Oh no! Moving stiffly, Stellan resumed a standing position.
“How could I possibly allow such a union? Do you have any idea, any at all, how a marriage to a necromancer such as yourself would impact our royal line? Our ancestors would rise from their tombs in protest!”
“Let me split this cur in half, Father,” said Edward, holding his fully drawn sword before him, “for his appalling affront to your good name.”
“She will not bring some devil dog into our family! Think of my reputation, Father!” said another sister.
“Father!” cried Clarysa. She rushed forward to stand by Stellan’s side. “This is my life we’re discussing, not some mere political transaction. I love him, Father! And I wish…I need to be with him…always! Do you hear me? Always!” She reached out her hand, seeking his. To her great amazement, he clasped it tightly.
The crowd spit forth a new round of reprimands. The most vociferous were from the nameless advisors grouped all about the King as if hungry pigs at the trough, each vying for attention.
As the verbal melee continued unabated, Stellan remained silent, his expression unmoved. He stood as if a statue. Nary a muscle twitched in his face. Clarysa couldn’t blame him. The Aldebaran royal court was a formidable foe, and he had taken a monumental risk in declaring his desire for her–mind, body and soul. His vulnerable appeal wrought fresh tears from her eyes. All she wanted
