delicate like her sisters’, but it was
interesting. Sharp angles, a strong
chin, and intense golden eyes came
together to create a face that
entranced. She’d grown accustomed
to the stares of others.
“And I’d wager the very lot would
rue it the next morning to find their
reach of sword hindered by those very
same blisters.”
Wilhelm’s
smile
faded
briefly,
before he took a swig of his ale and
chuckled. “You’ve always had your
mother’s spirit and my stubbornness.
Don’t you know as king I can
command you to dance?”
“Of course, My Lord Father, but
would that not make you an
unsympathetic king?”
Brows furrowing, he demanded an
explanation.
“Would you willingly submit your
subjects to such pains?”
Another round of laughter followed,
and Jaisyn smiled. Her father was a
man of laughter. Though he blustered
at some of her escapades—he’d
almost taken the belt to her that time
she’d gone riding into the countryside
alone—she’d always had the ability to
put a smile on his face.
“You exaggerate, Jaisyn. You move
well at dance and sword.”
“Your Majesty is kind to one so
undeserving.”
“I am honest.” His expression grew
winsome, and he appeared on the
verge of saying something else when
the bard addressed him. That led to
Wilhelm taking to the floor to the
great delight of all gathered. Jaisyn
laughed and clapped along with the
other watchers as her father twirled
one of the women, dipped another,
and worked his way through most of
the women gathered. He even danced
with Mathilda, who stepped on his
toes a few times if his discreet winces
were any indication.
When supper was over, Jaisyn
slipped unseen from the Great Hall,
her buttermilk treats hidden snugly in
the large pockets of her gown.
***
Jaisyn brushed the last of the sugary
treat from her lips and looked to the
twinkling stars in the night sky. She’d
ended up taking not only her cookies,
but the ones her father had left behind
on his plate. Wilhelm had never been
one for sweets.
Across from her, Malcolm took a
long swig from the buckskin flask
filled with ale. He was washing down
the majority of the cookies. As he
stopped to draw breath, he turned to
her, held out the skin, and hesitated.
Jaisyn struggled for patience. She’d
been noticing this strange behavior in
the past months, and disliked it.
“I’ve managed to pilfer cookies for a
friend, yet the very same friend
hesitates to share his ale with me.”
Instantly, he shook his head.
“Princess, you misund—”
“There is no one around to hear
you, Malcolm. I’ve given you free use
of my name.”
Once
more,
there
was
that
damnable hesitation. With a sigh,
Jaisyn leaned against the wall, angling
herself more securely against the
bench, and closed her eyes.
She heard the clinking of chain mail
as Malcolm moved, and his warmth
caressed her arm though the sleeve of
her dress. Calloused hands touched
hers, opening her fingers to place the
soft buckskin between them.
“We
aren’t
children
anymore,
Jaisyn.” His words were low, barely
carrying over the howl of the night
wind. He would not look at her. He
appeared to focus on the fine gold
trimming of her evening gown.
“No, but you’re still my closest
friend.” She lifted the skin to her lips,
swallowing the fermented drink with
the ease of a woman accustomed to it.
While her sisters preferred wine,
Jaisyn had always had a taste for ale.
As she ran the back of her sleeve
across her lips, Malcolm spoke
thoughtfully. “You are a princess. I
am a warrior. I can’t treat you as I
would another.”
“Yes, and we’ve known that since
you became my sparring partner. You
were the only squire brave enough to
fight me.” A rueful smile touched her
lips at the memory of Malcolm
stepping forward with his wooden
sword while the rest cowered back.
“Have
you
lost
your
courage,
Malcolm?”
From his deep intake of breath,
Jaisyn knew she’d hit a nerve.
“Jaisyn, you can’t expect—” He
released a breath. “There is a protocol
must be followed.”
“Even when we are alone?”
“Yes.” He sounded surly. “Lest I
forget when we are not.”
With an easy laugh, she took
another swig of the ale before handing
it back to him. “I don’t want to fight
with you. My father says I should
keep my sword sharp and work on
blunting my tongue.”
Malcolm chuckled, and whatever
tension had descended between them
faded. “King Wilhelm has always
been of the learned.”
For his cheekiness, he received a
cuff to his bicep, one Jaisyn instantly
regretted as her knuckles rapped his
chain mail. As she moaned and
rubbed
her
knuckles,
Malcolm
laughed.
“I’m glad you’re finding my distress
humorous.”
He took her hand and gently
caressed
her
bruised
knuckles.
“You’re the one who wanted to be
treated as a friend.”
Staring down at their hands, Jaisyn
smiled lazily, remembering years past
when Malcolm wrapped her bruised
knuckles after one of their infamous
fisticuffs. He’d be bloodied with
scratches over his face, and perhaps a
few teeth marks, yet he’d sit her
down, ignoring her simmering, and
wrap her bruises.
Malcolm released her hand and
silence reigned as they both focused
on the night sky.
“What do you fear, Jaisyn?”
Her answer was instant. “Nothing.”
“Who were expecting by the lake
tonight?”
Her body straightened, muscles
locking of their own volition. “No
one.”
There was a long silence, broken
only the screech of crickets and the
far-away snorting of animals. “Friends
don’t lie to each other.”
“Leave it be, Malcolm. I like to be
prepared in case of an attack.”
“From whom?”
She stood, stepping closer to the
square windows. “I don’t want to
discuss it. In fact, I’m tired. If I don’t
go to my chambers soon, Maggie will
send someone to fetch me.” Magda,
whom Jaisyn affectionately called
‘Maggie’, was a Lytherian woman of
about forty years old. She’d been with
Jaisyn since birth and had gone from
being one of Jaisyn’s governesses to
her lady’s maid, and when necessary,
squire.
Before Jaisyn could flee—because
that was exactly what she was doing
—Malcolm stepped into her path. He
made a fist, placed it directly over his
heart, and bowed his head. “So long
as I draw breath, Jaisyn, you have
nothing to fear.”
When he lifted his eyes, it was to
find a smile easing her features.
“Malcolm
Sudbury,
my
gallant
champion.”
The soft moonlight highlighted the
seriousness upon his face. “There are
warriors here who would lay down
their lives for you.”
“Because I am a St. Ives.” It was
expected. These men had sworn
fealty to her father, and his lineage.
“Because you’re worthy of it,
Princess.” Once more, he dipped his
head and locks of golden hair fell
across his smooth forehead. “You are
one of us, with battle scars to prove
it.”
Even
as
she
nodded
in
understanding, Jaisyn looked away.
He was referring to the scar she’d
received facing the three Morden
soldiers. It was a tale most knew, one
that was at times embellished by the
bards who frequented the castles.
Jaisyn didn’t care much for it, as it
reminded her of her failure. She might
have defeated three Morden soldiers,
but her brother and prince had still
died.
“Thank you, Malcolm.” The sound
of heavy footsteps touched her ears,
and Jaisyn turned in time to see
another warrior enter the gatehouse.
“Princess.” As he bowed, Jaisyn
read the surprise and curiosity in his
gaze. He had to be new.
“Good night.” She dipped her head
to both men, but couldn’t resist
tossing a challenge over her shoulder.
“Do not think to use your duty as an
excuse when you find yourself on
your back with my sword at your
throat tomorrow, warrior.”
A soft chuckle, accompanied by the
urgent whispering of the other man,
followed her from the gatehouse.
***
“Where are we going, Father?”
Jaisyn
looked
around
the
lush
countryside in curiosity, wondering if
he was leading her to any particular
place. They’d been riding for almost
an hour now, and she knew only that
he wanted her companionship this
day. The royal guard and Magda, her
lady’s maid, accompanied them at a
discreet distance.
Wilhelm tossed an amused glance in
her direction. “Methinks you are tired,
daughter.”
A vehement shake of the head was
his answer. “I am only curious to
know what surprise you have in store
for me, liege.”
“How glib her tongue is when she
finds it necessary.”
Jaisyn grinned.
They came upon a stream, and
Wilhelm dismounted, leading his
stallion to it. Jaisyn did the same,
patting Ajax’s flank as he drank.
Years ago, once she’d recovered
enough from her shoulder injury to
ride, Wilhelm had gifted her with
Ajax.
“Walk with me, child.”
Eagerly, she took her father’s arm,
following him along the water’s edge.
A few paces away from them, the
warriors who made up her father’s
royal guard were dismounting as well,
keeping their liege and his daughter
well within eyesight.
“I was selfish,” he began softly.
Jaisyn tried to turn to him, but he
continued along, pulling her with him.
“Your mother died when you were
barely old enough to remember her.”
He smiled, and Jaisyn knew he was
envisioning her mother before he
confirmed it. “Zenoba was unlike any
I’d seen before. She had hair the color
of a deep sunset, like Isolde, and skin
like a freshly plucked lily.” Wilhelm
chuckled briefly, closing his eyes.
“She was stunning, but her beauty
was just a part of her, the outer shell
to match her spirit.” He stilled and
Jaisyn moved to face him. “When
Zenoba died, I had a duty to the
Crown. It was one I neglected,
something I, out of selfish loyalty, did
not fulfill.”
Jaisyn
lifted
a
brow,
not
understanding,
and
waited.
She
sensed her father was trying to tell her
something important. The lines around
his lips suddenly seemed more
pronounced.
“I won’t be around forever.”
“Father!”
Wilhelm patted her hand in a gentle
but chastising manner. “Allow me to
finish, Jaisyn.”
With a frown, she clamped her lips
together, disliking the conversation
from the first sentence.
“You are my oldest and if the
succession would allow it, I would
leave you this kingdom. I do not doubt
your ability to rule. You love Lytheria
and its people, and have all the
makings of a great queen.” Jaisyn’s
heart swelled. She’d broached the
topic of succession to her father
numerous times, but Wilhelm had only