First Light (34 page)

If I died tomorrow— a very real possibility, as these grounds were full of watching eyes, and no doubt someone or some
thing
had seen us— I would die heartbroken, but happy. True love’s kiss was a pleasure not enjoyed by many during a much longer lifetime, and here I was experiencing it at the tender age of seventeen.

I tried to summon regret and could not. Instead I leaned forward, returning Cristian’s kiss with all the passion and love in my heart.

A breeze stirred around us, bringing clouds to our haven on an otherwise clear night. Drops of rain spattered on the ancient brick, but the tree mostly sheltered us.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, and my hands clung to his shoulders. His lips were soft and warm. I closed my eyes, sighing deeply with contentment.
The fairies were right,
I thought,
to tell us to be careful of touching.

“Adrielle.” Cristian breathed my name almost reverently. I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me, all traces of his earlier teasing gone. “There is something I must tell you.”

His hands slid from my waist, down my arms to my fingertips, which he squeezed lightly. “I think perhaps you should sit.”

I nodded mutely and allowed him to lead me to a stone bench nearby. When we were seated facing each other and he held both my hands in his, he began.

“The fairies promised that if tonight passed without incident I should be allowed to tell you—”

“Cristian!” We both stiffened at the sound of Cecilia’s voice. “Cristian, where are you?” She sounded distraught.

He hesitated a half-second, then rose, placing a quick kiss on my forehead. “I must go to her, but will you wait— will you trust me?”

“Yes.”
I trust you. I love you.
“Tell me quickly.” I caught his hand and held it.

“Cristian?” Cecilia’s voice again, a frantic note to it this time, and it sounded as if she was just on the other side of the hedge.

“It cannot be explained in a second,” Cristian whispered. “Return to the kitchens and stay there. I’ll come for you as soon as I’m able.”

And then he was gone, almost as quickly as when Florence had left me earlier. I was alone again. Even the brief drizzle had abandoned me. I ran my fingers over the bench, crumbling and in need of repair. My heartbeat still felt erratic, my lips moist and tingling. I closed my eyes, indulging in fantasy come true for a moment, reliving our kiss. At last, still delirious with happiness, I rose from the bench and made my way toward the hedge. I’d only started through when whispered voices coming from the path on the other side gave me pause.

“We’d met before, and I recalled him. I tried to get him to stay."

I recognized Cecilia’s voice, obviously distressed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to cut in,” Cristian said. “I saw that you were occupied, and I thought perhaps for one dance…”

“'Tis alright. He did me no harm. In truth, I think he meant to warn me. I am simply relieved you are well.” Through the hedge, I caught a glimpse of them as they walked past, the princess with her hand tucked in the crook of Cristian’s arm.

“For
everyone’s
safety,” she said, “I think it important we’re together as much as possible until the wedding.”

“I agree,” Cristian said readily. His head moved ever so slightly as he glanced at the hedge.

I held my breath and stood as motionless as a statue until they had long passed me. I retreated back into the abandoned garden.

Abandoned, like me.

The full moon cast sufficient light on my surroundings to see that at one time this had been a beautiful place. Overgrown bushes curved in such a way I could imagine the ornate shapes they’d once taken. Brittle vines crawled up the sides of the brick walls. Dried flower petals covered the ground. And in the center of the decaying grotto, there was an enormous hole in the ground, as if a large stone had been removed.
What happened here to make the gardeners, the royal family, abandon it so?
Had it simply served its purpose and been left behind? Was that what would happen to me? Had
I
served my purpose— a little fun until Cristian married, a stolen kiss, an unwitting bodyguard for the royal couple— and now would I, too, be neglected, while the person of real importance took her place at his side?

I wandered deeper into the garden, past the bench where I’d sat and past the tree beneath which I’d experienced that first glorious kiss. It was difficult to believe Cristian would use me so.
He’s different from Gemine
, I reasoned, knowing that was true. Gemine had deliberately set out to deceive me, whereas Cristian had simply wanted a friend. He was all the things a prince should be— generous, noble, hard-working…
once he found a cause to work for.
I’d believed him honest, too, but how could that be? Tonight he’d either been honest with me or honest with Cecilia. He would come for me, or he would stay with her, but to do both was impossible.

And wrong,
a voice inside me insisted. My conscience had finally returned.
Was I the one who made my relationship with Cristian more than it should have been?

True— he had kissed me first. But I’d wanted him to, wished for it, even. The same way I wished he’d leave Cecilia this very moment and come for me.

Even as I fought back tears, I hung my head, shamed by my treacherous thoughts. Cecilia was every bit as good as Cristian, and she’d had to wait so very long for her chance at happiness. And they
could
be happy together.

If
I didn’t ruin it. If my selfishness didn’t spoil everything from their marriage to the uniting of two kingdoms and the end of the terrible drought.

The path I walked suddenly came to an end. Another tall hedge loomed ahead, but this one had a rusty gate in the middle of it. I walked forward, peering through the iron bars, surprised to see the forest beyond. I must have wandered behind the castle, to the edge of the royal grounds. Behind the hedge I could see the thick stone of the wall. But where were the guards?
Anyone could slip in or out right here.
I
could slip out.
A ripple of fear sped down my spine.

I thought again of Cecilia, her kindness to me, and the long, lonely years she’d endured. I thought of the good Cristian could do for this kingdom— the good they could do together.
And my role in all this?
Was I really to be their protector, or Cecilia’s, at least?

Did I protect the princess by kissing her betrothed?
“I am a help to no one,” I said aloud.
No one. They will all be better without me.
The fairies, I was certain, could take care of things the last few days.

It took only a moment to make my decision— but several more for me to act on it, as it meant leaving the security I’d come to depend on these past months, and more than that, the friend I’d come to love.

With trembling fingers I tried to open the gate.
Locked, of course.
Liking the long, layered, cumbersome dress less each second, I hitched my skirts up, grabbed a vine, and began climbing the high wall. It took a few tries and much effort before I finally reached the top. I leaned forward and lay there, breathing heavily. I dared not look down or knew I’d be ill. But at least Father had taught me the courage to climb.

Oh, Papa,
I thought with renewed anguish.
I have not made you proud.

A pair of guards appeared on the forest side, and I lay still, my face pressed to stone until they had passed. Then I slid down the other side and, with a final look back, took off running.

“A pint of ale, a lass on the hay bale, oh that is the life I seek. But a princess fair hath lent me her hair, and shall be the ruin of me… yes, she shall be the ruin of me.” Infused with a goodly portion of drink, Hale sang at the top of his lungs, not particularly caring who or what heard. He moved slowly, dragging his misshapen foot along, even more oppressive now that he’d experienced a night free of it. He thought of the fate that awaited him.

If he was extremely lucky, a panther might leap from a nearby tree and end his misery rather fast. Less fortunate would be someone from Canelia finding him and dragging him back to the dungeons there for torture, confession, and eventual execution.

The worst scenario— and the one most likely to happen— was returning safely to Baldwinidad and facing his mother’s wrath. She would not accept his failure, and Hale knew it would be that much worse when she discovered
why
he’d failed.

“Noo,” he said, with a low whistle. “She’ll skin me alive when she realizes I held the princess in my arms and did nothing but dance with her.
But it was worth it. No matter what happens. It was worth it.
In his mind he relived those brief moments on the balcony, Cecilia’s trusting eyes, her concern for
his
safety. “She is a true princess,” he whispered. “And grown even more lovely since I saw her last.”

His fingers closed around the box in his pocket that contained a lock of hair— a gift from Cecilia that she hoped would appease his mother. With each labored step farther from Canelia, his thoughts grew more melancholy until he felt, grown man that he was, he would certainly cry over his loss. To have dreamed of and cared for a woman so long, and to have had her return that affection ever so briefly, was enough to break even his cold heart. But as his eyes began to burn and his nose to run,
he heard the sound of someone else weeping.

Hale stopped, listening carefully. The noise was ahead of him. Someone— a lass, he’d bet— was crying for all she was worth. Curious, he hastened on, dragging his leg over the fallen leaves littering the forest floor.

It took him but a moment to find her. She sat in a clearing, her back against a tree, knees pulled up to her chest, head of tousled hair covering her face. She held herself against the cold as sobs wracked her slender body. For the second time that night, Hale felt a surge of sympathy for the female species— destined to do as they were told, oft forced into marriage by their parents or some man. As a whole, their lot seemed oppressive.

Much like mine.

He wondered what had broken this girl’s heart. Clearing his throat, he hobbled over to a nearby log and sat down to wait for her to finish her cry.

After all, it wasn’t as if he was in a hurry to get home. His mother wouldn’t send anyone out to look for him for another day or two, and in the meantime, if he could somehow be of

service… It was a certainty he’d be meeting his maker soon, and at this point, any good deed in his favor might help.

The girl continued crying, and Hale waited. The moon rose over the clearing, and he bent down, picking up a good-sized stick from the ground. From beneath his sleeve, he withdrew his knife— the one he’d been ordered to cut out Princess Cecilia’s heart with— and began whittling a figure.

He’d formed the crude legs of a deer, when the girl finally ceased her sobs. She looked up at him with wide eyes, an odd expression on her face.

He stared as well, then nearly fell backwards over the log as recognition dawned.

They both spoke at once. “You!”

Spying the knife clutched in the outlaw’s hand, I felt a sudden twinge of fear.

Odd
, I thought,
the pearls feel cool.
Perhaps when I was in the wrong— as I surely was after kissing Cristian— the magic of the pearls ceased to warn me of imminent danger. The thought had me battling a new set of tears, these guilt-filled over my poor behavior.
What had I been thinking, to kiss the prince?
But this was no time to indulge in another bout of pity or self-recrimination. The thief who’d first taken the bracelet from Merry Anne sat but a few feet away.

Amidst my tangle of emotions, anger swooped in. The
entire
mess that was my life could be traced back to that one moment the thief had taken the pearls. Were it not for him I might not have been separated from Merry Anne, might not have gone to work in the kitchens, might not have met Cristian and might not be homeless and heartbroken in the middle of a cold, dark forest.

I rose at the same time he did.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Only to offer my assistance. You seemed out of sorts,” he added. Behind his scraggly beard I thought I detected a smile.