“‘What of love?’ her father asked the current king’s father, who at that time was merely Prince Gerald of Baist. ‘Her beauty is so compelling that surely someone would fall in love, if they take but one look,’ Lord Eville pleaded.
“‘Beauty means little, for one does not marry for love,’ Prince Gerald had responded.
“All of the princes laughed in his face, threw food at him, and ordered him to be gone. When he clutched his chest and fell before them, they thought it was an act to amuse them. They didn’t even realize the severity of the moment until Lorelai came running to him from the shadows—she had been there the whole time, watching and listening. She tried to save her father, but he died in her arms while they argued amongst themselves.
“But her father, Lord Eville, was right. When the seven princes saw the beauty of Lorelai as she rushed to her father’s aid, they each were stricken with an insane desire to possess her for their own as queen. Seven proposals came to her as she lay coddling her father’s dead body. But the offers fell on deaf ears, and vengeance was born in her heart.
“‘You are not worthy of my love, or my body,’ my mother hissed. ‘No one is, for while you argue and make a mockery of the very man who made you rich, you let the only man I have ever loved die.’
“Her anger only made her more beautiful to them, but Lady Eville could not be persuaded, and she swore vengeance on all seven princes and their kingdoms accordingly. Years later, here I am.” I shrugged. “Fulfilling my mother’s vengeance and forcing the king’s son into a loveless marriage.”
Pru had been caught up in the tale. Leaning forward, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “What curse has she placed on the other princes’ kingdoms?”
“I do not know, for that is not my story to tell,” I answered.
“And what happened to Lorelai—I mean, Lady Eville after her encounter with the princes? Was she punished?”
“No.”
“No?”
“She retreated as a pauper to Nihill, where she took up residence in an old abandoned watchtower on the edge of town and made a living selling charms and potions.”
“How tragic.” She sighed dreamily and clutched her own heart.
I nudged her foot with my own and gave her a look of admonishment. “This wasn’t a story. This was my mother’s history.”
“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, and I felt slightly appeased, though not much.
A few hours later, we stopped for a break along the trail. My hand was throbbing from the various cuts, so when the carriage was secure, I hurried toward the river’s edge and took off my bandage, letting the wounds soak in the cool water while Pru gathered wood for a fire to boil water for tea. My black veil kept getting in my way, so I lifted it off my face while I was tending to my hand, wishing for the millionth time that I could heal my own wounds.
Heavy footfalls came up behind me, and I caught a scent of cedar and leather. Prince Xander. I reached for my veil and covered my face before I turned to him. He stood in front of me, the sun having given his skin a warm glow, though his eyes were still red and tired.
“Why did you come?” he asked.
I blinked in surprise. “I wanted to keep my end of the bargain to help you, and because your father asked me to.”
“So you can leave?” He folded his arms over his chest.
“So I can leave,” I confirmed.
“Nothing else? No other reason at all? You’re not secretly in league with the emissary from Florin, are you?”
I snorted in response. “No, I am definitely not in league with Earlsgaarde.”
Prince Xander’s brows rose at my unladylike snort. He studied me silently before finally nodding and moving on.
With Pru’s help, I rebandaged my hand, then prepared my special tea and sipped it.
Farther down the riverbank, I could see Prince Xander scowling, sitting on a log with his head in his hands. I prepared a feverfew blend and headed back over to him with a peace offering. Standing next to him in silence, I waited for him to acknowledge me so I could approach, but he didn’t move.
Clearing my throat did nothing to stir him. “My lord,” I finally said, and he turned his head and looked up at me.
“Yes?”
“For your head.” I held out the cup, my fingers trembling. He didn’t move to take it, and I felt his rejection in my chest. “Do you fear I would poison you?”
“Would you?” he asked, turning to give me his full attention.
“Not when I value my life,” I said. “If I wanted to poison you, I would wait at least a year or more, not a week after our wedding. That would be suspicious,” I teased.
Xander’s brows furrowed and he cocked his head. I realized that, wearing the veil, he couldn’t see my facial expression and was therefore left to read the tone of my voice.
Once again, feeling unfairly judged, I raised my veil with my left hand. He gasped at the movement, grasping my wrist to stop me. Wincing, as he’d grabbed my injured arm, I dropped the cup and spilled its contents onto the sand.
“What were you doing?” he hissed. “I told you to always wear the veil. What if I see you and become enchanted or put under a spell? My father swears that’s what happened when he saw your mother.”
My lips trembled as I tried to hold back the tears from the pain. Cupping my hand to my chest, I snapped, “I was only going to raise my veil enough to take a sip and prove to you that I wouldn’t poison you, but I fear it wouldn’t matter, Prince, because your heart is already poisoned.”
Leaving the cup in the sand, I spun and headed back the way I’d come, passing my fire and kettle on the hill and entering the carriage. In the darkness, I let the pain overtake me and the tears fall as Pru doused the fire and cleaned up our lunch.
Chapter Thirteen
An hour later, we were on the road again, then stopped before sunset to prepare camp for the night. We found a trunk on a wagon with all of our supplies for setting up our tent, and thankfully, with a little help from my magic, I was able to get it up without help from the men.
Lanterns were out and hung on shepherd’s crooks outside each tent, casting a warm glow on the ground. Not one used to sitting idly by, I tried to make myself useful. Picking up a sack of potatoes, I carried them over to the kitchen area near a boiling pot and set them by a crate that was being used to prepare food. Finding an unattended knife, I began to easily peel the potatoes next to another woman.
“N-No. You don’t touch the food,” Boz, the head cook, said, taking the knife from my hands. His eyes scanned my dark veil, and I could easily read his suspicion. An older servant came and whispered in his ear, and he blanched. “We’re fine. We don’t need you. Go!”
“But I can help. I don’t mind,” I said, but was promptly ignored. Even the servants wouldn’t let me help set up the bedrolls or fetch water from the stream. I was a pariah.
Our tent was set up away from the others, and I asked Pru to come inside with me.
“What do you need, miss?”
“Switch clothes with me,” I demanded, looking at her new dress. It still gave her more freedom than my own.
“What?”