He couldn’t help loving her. He knew her not as a queen, but as a lovely young woman of passion and true humility, who cared about people for the simple fact that they were human beings and had feelings of their own. And she was humble and aware of her own shortcomings, so devoid of conceit that she seemed to struggle to fathom that he could find her tears anything but loathsome.
But her father, that toad of a man, had done that to her, had disapproved of her whenever she expressed an honest emotion. What an atrocity, to so belittle her in that way. If her feelings had been selfish and out of control, or cruel, lashing out at those around her, then he could understand why her father would reprimand her, but that was not the case.
When the feast was nearing an end and the newly married bride and groom bid them a good night, the princess smiled at him.
“It is late and I’m tired. I’m going to my room now.”
“May I accompany you to your door?”
“You may.”
The way she smiled at him made his heart beat faster.
They rose from the table as everyone wished them both a good night.
As they left the Great Hall and headed for the stairs, Princess Elyce slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it gently.
“What a strange day it has been,” she said.
“Yes. I hope you are not too fatigued from it all.”
“I just need a good night’s sleep, I think.”
When they reached her door, she faced him and said, “I know you have family in England, but . . . do you think you could ever make Montciel your home?”
He was not sure how to answer, even though it was the very thing he’d been pondering for days.
She lifted her head, and he leaned down and kissed her, loving the feel of her lips, so warm and soft.
When the kiss was over, she pressed her face to his chest. He still had not answered her question. He’d told her he was not leaving her, but those words had been spoken in the heat of the moment, when he’d been anxious to protect her from harm. But now he had to seriously consider if he wished to live the rest of his life away from England and away from his family.
“I think I could.” But his tone probably conveyed his lack of certainty.
He loved how comfortable they had become with each other. But would everything change when she became queen? Certainly, she could never live with him in England now. He’d also heard that power changed people. A second or third son, who owned nothing and had always been overlooked, would often become the worst sort of person upon hearing of the death of his older brother, thus suddenly becoming the heir, wealthy and powerful.
Did he think Princess Elyce would change in that way?
No. She was much too kind and noble-hearted. But she also might not wish to marry an English knight if marrying a duke or an earl or a prince would benefit her people. And he could not bear to stay around to see her married to someone else.
He heard a commotion behind him as heavy boots raced up the stairs.
“What is it?” Princess Elyce stepped away from him before the person came into view. “Has something happened?”
“Your Grace,” said a soldier, coming nearer in the torchlight. “News apparently reached Valkenfeld that King Claude is dead, and Count Rodrigo is declaring himself king.”
Gerard squeezed the princess’s arm. “I shall go with him to tell Bertold.”
He hurried away. As he went, he realized it was likely he would not see her again for some time, if he and Sir Oswalt needed to go and help Bertold secure the throne of Valkenfeld. But perhaps that was good. It would give him time to think about whether he wished to make Montciel his home, and even more importantly, whether the two of them could—or should—marry, now that she was the queen.
Twenty-Five
Ysa had asked for some time away to spend with her family and had not even said farewell to Elyce before she left. Her abrupt departure broke Elyce’s heart, but she had also begun to feel as if Ysabeau hated her.
Perhaps hate was too strong a word, and certainly Ysa did not disapprove of her as much as her father and Aunt Winifred had, but she had been quite willing to let Elyce marry Rodrigo and sacrifice herself rather than let her brothers be harmed.
Elyce could not exactly fault her for that. And yet it hurt just the same. The coldness Ysa had displayed toward Elyce when she thought Elyce might defy her father’s orders again to marry Rodrigo, the resentful look she had sent Elyce’s way when Elyce expressed concern for Ysa’s brothers . . . Thankfully, God had saved Ysa’s brothers. Two of them had minor injuries, and Elyce was sorry for that, but they were safe, and Elyce sincerely thanked God.
Now, whenever she thought of Ysa, her heart felt sore and shy, as if bruised and guarding itself, hoping to heal and wondering if that relationship was gone forever.
Elyce was awaiting news from Valkenfeld and Sir Gerard. A few days had passed since he had left with Bertold and Sir Oswalt. As she waited, she kept busy learning from Father Johannes and her father’s chancellor and advisors what was required of her. She heard twice-daily reports from captains of the guard, went to meetings with the financial accountants, and prayed fervently for her country, her people, and her own ability to lead.
Elyce also spent a few hours every day with Astrid, who had been left in the safekeeping of Elyce and Montciel’s guards until Bertold could secure the throne of Valkenfeld.
One day when they were walking in the tiny garden behind the castle, Elyce asked Astrid, “How did you know you were in love with Bertold?”
“I don’t remember the exact moment, but we had played together as children. I always wanted to play on Bertold’s team, not Claude’s, and Bertold was as protective of me as an older brother might have been. He was five years older than me. After my father died, my mother and I were not invited to the castle anymore, but when I was eighteen, Bertold heard that my cousin, who had inherited my father’s estate, was sending my mother and me away from our home. Bertold sent for us and let us live in an old forester’s cottage near the castle. Sometimes he would come and bring an extra horse for me and we would go for rides. I don’t know the exact moment, but it didn’t take me long to fall in love with him. He was so kind.”
Astrid’s gentle smile made her even more beautiful.
“I have noticed the way you and Sir Gerard look at each other. You are in love with him, are you not?”
“I am.”
“Have you told him so?”
“No. I am not sure what to do, and I don’t know how he feels about me. He says he is not leaving, but I wonder if he means to stay only until the country is safe and there is no more danger. I can’t imagine that he would not want to go back to England. Why would he remain here? A man does not want his wife to be a queen of a foreign kingdom, to keep him away from his family.”
“How do you know? Perhaps he isn’t close to his family. If you married him, you would be his family.”
“But he does care for his family. He loves his sister and his six brothers. His relationships with them are very strong.”
“He can go and visit them. England is not so far away.”
She thought of the way he had taken care of her, helped her, and kissed her. “I do love him, Astrid. What should I do?”