Jane scrutinized her for a moment, checking for any sign of dishevelment, a single hair out of place. Seeing nothing to criticize, she pursed her lips, eyes narrowed.
“Are you prepared, princess?” she asked. There was no sympathy in her eyes, no note of concern in her voice for the grief that the family was feeling over the loss of Jacob. There was no emotion in her voice at all. She was simply doing her job.
“Yes, mistress,” Lana responded politely. Until she took over the kingdom from her father who was acting as regent, she must treat this woman with respect, as she would her mother. She didn’t drop her eyes, however. She was still the princess and Jane was in the employ of her family, not the other way around.
Turning on her heel, Jane led the way. Lana followed in her wake, head held high as she tried to pretend that she was walking alone with no need for an escort. Trying to be the queen she would one day become.
* * *
Clay shifted carefully. This was the tallest tree he could find that had a branch sturdy enough to bear his weight and high enough to view the castle window, but it was still a precarious perch. Silently, he sent thanks to the tree for tolerating his presence and could feel the tree’s rueful acceptance. It wasn’t often that someone visited this forest and paid respect to the life within so this was a rather adventurous day for the old oak.
He had been watching her window for an hour, waiting for a glimpse of the woman he was sent for. He didn’t know why the elders wanted the princess or why it was he who had been chosen for the mission but after having seen her for the few moments she’d glanced out at the forest, Clay realized he didn’t mind the charge. She was extraordinary. With a willowy figure, her mouth begging for a kiss, those cat-like eyes… Yes, he wouldn’t mind stealing this princess away.
After waiting for a bit longer, hoping for another sighting, Clay finally gave up and began scaling nimbly down the tree. Even among his fellow elven kind, he had extraordinary balance. It helped that the tree was a friendly one and would strengthen the branches to aid in his descent.
Upon reaching the forest floor, he patted the tree fondly and bid it farewell. The tree was happy for the exercise but also glad to be rid of him, wanting to return to its slumber.
Clay stretched his long body out, working the muscles that had stiffened during his vigilant watch. He knew that this girl had elf blood and if he had shifted the slightest bit while she glanced out her window, she may have spotted the movement. Even half elven eyes are sharper than most humans so he had to be careful. Despite his efforts, he felt like she had sensed his presence somehow.
Picking up his pack, Clay departed for the small camp in the heart of the forest, whistling a tune as he went. Like any elf, he was tall, halfway between six and seven feet, with a lean body made for quick and stealthy movements. His hair and eyes were the ruddy color of clay, hence his name. His features were sharp: a pointed nose and chin, narrow jaw, high cheekbones common to elves. He was a handsome fellow, or so he’d been told. Clay wondered if the woman would find him handsome or if she would simply hate him for being her captor.
The camp was undisturbed so he started a fire and began cooking a vegetable stew from the provisions he’d packed. If this mission took much longer, he was going to have to go foraging or steal from the local village. He hated stealing from poor folk but he couldn’t let the elders down and a man had to eat.
Watching the pot as the contents began to boil, Clay set to sharpening his dagger as he thought about the princess. She wouldn’t be an easy target, that was certain. The castle was well guarded and her room was four stories high with no discernible footholds in the wall to climb. No, he was going to have to use every trick up his sleeve to get close enough to steal her away. He grinned in anticipation. This was going to be fun.
* * *
Lana kept her eyes on her food and ate sparsely. It wouldn’t do for a princess to be seen scarfing her food down like a pig. She was seated in the second largest chair at the head of the table with her father to her right and Jane to her left. Jane kept a watchful eye on her charge, waiting to see if Lana would disgrace her. She had no intention of giving the old crone the satisfaction of watching her make a fool of herself.
It wasn’t often Lana was allowed to feast with the court; Usually, it was only during special occasions. This week’s feasts would be in honor of her brother and so her presence was required. She relished being in the company of others because it was such a rare opportunity for her. Most of the time, her meals were brought to her in her room after it was clear that the food tester wasn’t going to die, and her food was often cold by then.
A servant passed by her with a plate full of steaming ham but Lana waved him away, trying not to look at the food. She had never been able to stomach meat of any kind. When she was younger, every time she would eat meat she became violently ill. Her father thought poison was being slipped into her food somehow, perhaps by the servant who tasted it and he had imprisoned quite a few of them before determining that it was simply
