Kaelyn slammed the door to her tiny room in the bardic school and pressed her back against it. After a month of thinking of it as her prison cell, it now seemed the safest place in the Kingdom.
Harcourt was here.
She’d barely been at the Royal Bardic Collegiate for a month and already he was checking up on her. Of course, she was only an eight day sail up the coast in Norwell. Maybe it had been his intention to check on her all along. But she couldn’t deny the feeling that he knew. He had to know she hadn’t forgotten about that night, had to have figured out that whatever the man with the white eyes had done, it hadn’t worked. She remembered everything: the pain in her chest, her bruised knees and scraped hands, and the plot to murder his mother, Queen Adelicia.
And Harcourt’s last words were he’d kill her if she remembered.
The door behind her opened, and she stumbled forward.
“Mistress Wintherford,” said the Head Master, making no attempt to veil his contempt for her. “His Royal Highness, Prince Harcourt, requests an audience.”
She swallowed, her muscles trembling.
“Now.” The Head Master stepped in, grabbed her arm, and propelled her out the room and down the hall. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
She nodded, her thoughts whirling. She couldn’t meet with Harcourt. He couldn’t discover she still planned to stop him. She’d been struggling to devise a plan to tell Wyndham since her arrival. Any letter she wrote would certainly be read by Harcourt’s men first and she wasn’t in a position to leave since being a minstrel was now supposed to be her lifelong dream. And her family was no help. She didn’t know how Harcourt had convinced them of this, but shortly after she’d arrived so had a letter from her father congratulating her on her acceptance into the school. In all likelihood, Harcourt had threatened or enseplled them.
How had he discovered her? She’d tried so hard to live the lie and remain unnoticed.
The Head Master stopped in front of a plain wooden door, no different from any other in the collegiate. They were in a part of the school set aside for guests and graduates, strictly forbidden to the students.
Her heart pounded. She had thought, after that terrible night when Harcourt had caught her, that nothing would make her so scared again. Yet here she was covered in a slick sheen of sweat.
The Head Master lowered his face close to hers. “I don’t care who your father is.” His quiet voice was filled with menace. “Don’t say or do anything to disgrace me.”
She met his gaze and his eyes narrowed. He could threaten her all he liked, but he’d never be as scary as Harcourt.
He grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Do you understand?”
Before she could reply the door opened. The Head Master shot upright, a false smile plastered on his face. The servant at the door stepped aside and the Head Master shoved Kaelyn into the room.
The sitting room was filled with afternoon sunlight, everything bright save for Harcourt, a black silhouette against a bank of tall windows.
Her mouth went dry.
A breeze swept into the room, fluttering the sheers into gauzy apparitions around his dark figure.
“Kaelyn Wintherford.” Harcourt turned and the breeze sucked the curtains back, revealing him. He wore all black. It matched his short-cropped hair and made his dark eyes darker.
She knew she should bow, offer him the respect due to his station, but she couldn’t move.
Damn it. He was not supposed to know. She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of him. He hadn’t done anything yet, perhaps she hadn’t been caught. Perhaps he was just here to make sure she’d forgotten.
She forced her knees to bend and dropped into a low curtsey. “Your Royal Highness.”
His top lip curled back in what she knew was a smile and he turned back to the window. “I hope you’re enjoying your time here at the collegiate.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
He paused.
Her heart rapped a quick tattoo in her chest. He was toying with her and any moment would pounce.
“Then why your recent letter?”
Her letter? She didn’t remember saying anything in a letter. She hadn’t written to Wyndham, even though he’d written numerous times to her, proving that her relocation was public knowledge. She’d only sent a terse note to her brother.
“Your brother petitioned the Queen on your behalf.”
Ancient Father what had she said? That she was happy . . . no ecstatic . . . but homesick. And that it would be a dream if she could have the privilege to study with the court minstrel. That way she could have both her dream and her family.
It was the only thing she could think of to get back to Vitreah. But her brother hadn’t responded so she assumed he thought it a childish fantasy. Besides, the great minstrel Cuthwolf of Endara hadn’t taken an apprentice since before she was born.
Harcourt chuckled, but she didn’t like the sound of it. If he was happy, nothing good could come of it.
“It’s a shame. Wyndham has missed you at Court but when you return his duties will keep him too busy to see you.”
What duties? There was little the third Prince needed to do. Wyndham had never shown an interest in the temple and his mother had never forced the traditional, third son, occupation on him.
“Duties, your Highness?” she asked, putting on her best naive expression.
“For some reason Mother wants Wyndham to participate in the treaty negotiations.”
She could sense the venom under his thin veil of disinterest. But she couldn’t tell if it was a dislike of Wyndham, their mother, or the negotiations with the clansmen.
“After all, his marriage to some clanswoman is integral to obtaining a lasting peace.”
Her blood drained away, she didn’t know where, but it no longer remained in her face or hands or feet. Cold fear clenched her gut. Had Harcourt noticed her sudden stillness? She didn’t know if the spell allowed her to keep her feelings for Wyndham, or if she was supposed to forget about that as well.
“In fact, everyone is getting married.” Harcourt leveled his dark gaze on her.
So she was finally going to be spirited away through marriage. And why not? Her dreams about spending her life with Wyndham were no more than that: dreams. She knew in her heart the day would come when her prince would make a political alliance–they both knew what their duty was for family and kingdom. But she never thought the announcement would arrive so soon. Or that her father would act so quickly on her behalf. He’d put it off for so long she’d almost believed he was hoping for a royal marriage as well. A union between the crown and the merchant barons could be beneficial for the kingdom.
“I’m not, of course.”
Kaelyn blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not getting married. My brother, however, is.”
“Wyndham.”
“Well, yes. I guess he is, too.”
Didn’t he just tell her that Wyndham was to wed at the conclusion of the negotiations?
“Mother has asked me to help keep her royal chair warm while Reynold goes back to Kardesh with his desert pet to find a bride.” He smiled. There was no warmth in it. “Treaties everywhere. Which will leave just you and me at court.”
She shivered at that. The thought of being trapped with Harcourt always watching her terrified her. But it was the only way she could get close to Wyndham and tell him about Harcourt’s plans.
Harcourt turned back to the window, gazing at something she couldn’t see. “I’m afraid you’ll find court life has changed. Most of the courtiers followed Gregor and Wyndham to Mythnar.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Wyndham wasn’t going to be in Vitreah. She was headed in the wrong direction. She didn’t need to sail back south, she had to go north to Mythnar.
“The tide goes out at dawn. So do we. I expect you to be prompt.”
She nodded, not really registering his words. All she could think of was how she was going to escape Harcourt and get to Mythnar.
