Royal Chronicles of Denmark, Books 1 & 2 Page 10

  “What could possibly be the matter with my father at such a crucial moment as this?” he snapped. “My time is not yet up with Cinder and--”

  “You must come now, Prince Norvack, sir! For your father has suffered a stroke in his chambers.”

  “A stroke?” he said. The guilt crept up inside me when he turned to me with watery eyes. He tried not to cry because it was not a masculine thing to do in the presence of any Denmark maiden, no matter her status. He made a face alerting to me that he was terrified, but tried to remain calm. He looked into my eyes and furrowed his brows. “Cinder, I--”

  “Prince Norvack, sir!”

  “Go to him,” I said.

  Norvack clinched his jaw and nodded. He jerked his body away from mine and raced to the door to meet his servant. “What happened?”

  “Your father and the queen were discussing Willem and he collapsed in her arms.”

  Norvack raised his hand and looked back to me from the corner of his eye. “Take her back to her room,” he said in a dark tone. “I shall be back for her later.”

  “Yes sir.” The servant turned to me and bowed as Norvack raced from the room in a panic. My legs felt as if they were made of water; my chest swelled and I felt on the verge of collapse. “Miss?” He called for me, holding out his hand. I smiled wearily and somehow managed to make it out of the room in one piece.

  We were quiet as he escorted me back to my chambers. The entire palace was quiet, in fact. So quiet that you could have heard a feather drop to the floor in any room. The harsh threat of death filled the air, though it had been said the king suffered only a stroke, not that anything else tragic had followed.

  Once we reached my room, I thanked his servant and went straight over to my bed. Brigita soon entered with fresh linens, startling me. We looked at one another for a few seconds, and then she lowered her head.

  “You’re aware of what happened with the king?” she asked.

  I wiped my face of tears. “Yes. I was with Norvack when he received the news.”

  “This isn’t his first attack, and I am certain it will not be his last.” She knit her brows. “Why are you crying?”

  “Because this one is my fault. I have possibly killed him.”

  “How?”

  “By murdering his son!” I got up from the bed and anxiously moved about the room, chewing at my nails with each step. “Belarus was speaking with the queen about Willem and then he collapsed in her arms. He must have been discussing his son’s death and got upset.”

  “Just as you are now. Calm down,” she said. “It will all be fine. I will get you something. Lay back.”

  I did as she requested and rested on the bed as she wet a towel in the lavatory. “Thank you,” I told her as she placed it upon my head. “I think you are much too kind for your own good.”

  She sat beside me as I rolled over. “I’m used to taking care of other people.”

  “Why the royals?” I asked.

  “Money. The king saw me in the village one day peddling for my mother and pleaded with me to work for him here instead. I was fourteen.”

  “How much were you promised?”

  “I don’t remember. But it was enough to keep my family well fed for years. I stay because they still need my support, my siblings and my mother. As long as I am here, I know they are well taken care of.”

  For awhile, we talked of Belarus’ condition. Within the hour, I had fallen asleep on my bed, only to be awakened by an incessant rapping at the door. Brigita arose to answer it and I sat up when I saw Norvack in the hallway. He greeted us with a nod.

  Brigita stepped forward and took his hand. “How is he at the moment?” she asked. “We were devastated when news of the king spread throughout the palace.”

  He looked at me for less than a second and smiled at Brigita. “His physician was quite brief, but nonetheless, he believes the king shall make a full recovery, though he gave us quite a scare.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you or the queen?”

  “No. However, I need to speak with Cinder for a moment.”

  She acknowledged me with a knowing glance and exited.

  Norvack walked over to the bed. “May I sit?”

  “Yes.” I dropped my feet to the floor and placed the towel behind me. Norvack dropped to the bed and tightened his jaw as if he were trying to hold back more emotion. I wanted to touch him, to place my hand on his back and attempt to sooth him, but I refrained. “How is your father?” I said. “Truly?”

  He exhaled. “It was a mild heart attack.” His breath hit my cheek, fanned my neck, and I tried my best to ignore the sudden chill it gave my skin, and swallowed hard. “He should be fine by tomorrow.”

  “For the wedding.” I rattled my head and shut my eyes. “I am so sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” His voice was hard, somewhat angst-ridden.

  “Many things.”

  “Such as?”

  I looked at him for a long while and stroked my tongue across my bottom lip, thinking. Then I removed myself from the bed and traipsed across the room near the window. “More than anything, I suppose, I am sorry about your brother. And the distress his death has caused your family. I’m sorry I was ever out there that night. Perhaps I should have waited or traveled to another part of the woods and nowhere near the outskirts of the palace to search for food.”

  Norvack sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s not your fault that my brother was a worthless bastard, Cinder. Had I saved you from him that night, perhaps--”

  “It’s no more your fault than it is my own.”

  “He was no victim.” He stopped and stood up from the bed. “My brother’s death was inevitable. I believe it was from the time we were children. Someone would have murdered him at one time or another. Or, perhaps he would have whiskeyed himself to death.”

  “Says the man who quite possibly has brandy running through his veins in place of blood as we speak.”

  He chuckled. “True.”

  I smiled.

  “When did you start drinking? How old were you?”

  “Hmm, thirteen, possibly. Not long after learning the truth about Willem, I’m sure of that. My mother had one of her grand parties and my uncle gave me a swig from his flask.”

  “And that was all it took?”

  He shrugged. “It seems so. Though at the academy, drinking was strictly prohibited as they feared it would impair our judgment.”

  “How did you manage a day without your precious liquor?”

  He looked aside, and then smiled. “I often dreamt of what it would be like to drink you instead.”

  The moment he said it, I felt winded, as if all life had been sucked out of me by him alone with those very words. His eyes shined, like two small beams of sunlight bursting from beneath his eyelids. I breathed deep, looking straight into them and sucked on my bottom lip, taking a chance.

  “And?”

  “And, what?”

  “What did I taste like in your dream?” I softened my voice, in part mortified I had even asked, and in part, intrigued by what his answer would be.

  He grinned and laughed. Then he narrowed his eyes and raised his shoulders. “I don’t know, my favorite girl. In my dreams, you never allowed my tongue near you. Perhaps such dreams were premonitions? You have yet to allow me to taste your sweetest nectar.” He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers and slid them to the front of my gown. “You are the epitome of the forbidden fruit. Dangerous. Enticing -- irresistible.” He placed two fingers between my breasts, lightly massaging them, and I whimpered in satisfaction. My body would not allow me to move, or allow me to shove him away as my brain had demanded. I was as frozen as an ice sickle in winter. “Tomorrow,” he said, jerking me closer. “Shall I have you then?” He watched my breasts in anticipation as my breathing increased. “I wish to consume you, Cinder. I think about your breasts and your thighs. I think of my tongue inside you, and--”

  “Sir?” Norvack’s se
rvant peeked into my room.

  I lifted the rim of my gown over my breasts and scurried across the room like a mouse who had just escaped being caught inside a trap filled with cheese. Blood rushed to my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around myself and prayed that he hadn’t seen or heard of a thing between us.

  Norvack scowled in anger, but breathed deep and turned to his servant. “What is it?”

  “The Sheriff is here to see you,” he said.

  I turned in fear and blurted. “What for?” Norvack looked to me, arching a brow. I ducked away and dropped my hands, folding them to keep them from rattling with fear.

  “I will meet with him soon. Escort him to the main library.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He came over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders. I jumped, and he frowned. “You’re shivering again,” he said, his voice concerned as he rubbed my arms down. “There’s no chill in here. What--?”

  “He’s going to tell you that he knows I killed Willem.”

  “Who? The Sheriff?”

  “Yes! I was sure he had informed your father of his suspicions already, but…” I took a sharp breath. “Last night, when you excused yourself, I lied. He wasn’t congratulating us, instead he told me he knew all of what I had done, from spearing Willem with your sword to dumping his body in the river.”

  He looked to the floor, attempting to hide his own worries but I could see the lines of fear developing on his face. “He was bluffing.”

  “He wasn’t.” I felt the tears coming and shut my eyes to stop them. “He is sure of what I have done now, even if he wasn’t before.”

  “How?”

  I wiped my face of a fallen tear. “Because I threatened to inform the king that he moved Willem’s body from the river to the square. The problem is, I don’t think he cares so long as I’m punished. Norvack,” I muttered, “he knows where I keep that sword. Even if the blood is gone, that sword with your initials carved into the handle is all the proof he needs to verify his case. He knows what I did, and he’s going to tell you and expect you to do something about it. To have me beheaded or hanged or burned alive before the village--”

  “Cinder,” he said calmly. He looped his hand around me and gently pulled me to him. He cupped my face and slid his fingers around my neck. “Do you believe I would allow such a thing to happen to you?”

  “No! But if you don’t, he is most certainly going to tell your father now, and he would!” I ripped myself away from him and crossed the room. Norvack came up behind and slipped his arms around my waist, pressing me against his body. I melted into him like butter upon a slice of soft, warm bread.

  “You’re mine,” he said. “I will not allow the Sheriff or anyone else to take you away from me, ever. Willem deserved to die.”

  “I--”

  “Stop. As I said, if not by your hand, then someone else’s.” He kissed the side of my throat. “Where do you keep the sword?”

  “Underneath a loose floorboard near the mattress in my room. But--”

  “No. I shall handle the Sheriff. You must ready for your first lesson.”

  “What lesson?”

  “My mother wishes for you to take lessons in proper etiquette this afternoon prior to the planned wedding rehearsal much later. All in preparation as a future princess and eventual queen.”

  I groaned. “Perhaps so long as the ‘teacher’ for this lesson is not your mother.”

  “I wish I could promise you that, my favorite girl.” I felt his lips curving up against my skin. “However, I can promise that the Sheriff will no longer be a problem for you.” He lifted my chin and pressed his lips against my ear, whispering in almost a dark and sinister tone. “I said I would do anything for you Ella, and I meant it.”

  My head snapped in his direction when I heard him use my real name for the first time ever. He smiled at me and kissed the side of my face, then headed for the door. He made it appear as if all was fine, but I got the strange and uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that Norvack’s form of doing anything for me included a possible murder of his own. It frightened me to think he would go to such lengths. “Norvack!” I called out. “You’re not going to do anything to him, are you?”

  “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

  He left the room before I could ask what that meant.

  The Venture

  My ‘etiquette’ lesson with a well-mannered lady of the queen’s court, Mistress Alana, began promptly within the hour downstairs in a large ballroom. I was in awe as I stood at the center of it. It was covered in mirrors all around that ran from the white marble floors straight up to the tiered ceiling. Only a slither of gold peeked through from between the creases of each mirror. I saw myself slumped over at two-hundred and fifty-seven different angles and hated each of them as they all managed to capture my worst features. I went over to one of the mirrors and looked hard at myself. I tugged at my cheeks, reddening them a little, and the mistress slapped my hand with a slender wooden object.

  She peered and raised the wooden object to my face. I jumped back from her. Her nose was pointy and thin, and her eyes were as black as coal with tiny wrinkles surrounding them. Her lips were the color of stained blood, natural and frightening, and her hair was so red it looked as it if had been set ablaze right before my very eyes.

  She stared at me for a long time as if I were the anomaly, and groaned. “A lady must never do such a thing,” she said, her voice deep, dark. And mean. “Pinching one’s cheeks in the manner of seeking attention from a male suitor is for whores and jezebels.”

  “I presume you have never had such a problem?” I looked down at my hand, clutching and soothing my injured fingers. Then I returned to her eyes and knit my brows, glaring at her the same way she had me. “Don’t ever hit me again.” I moved to the center of the room and dropped my hands.

  She scoffed, following after.

  “This is not the wild, Cinderella,” she snapped, her bright red hair bouncing against the back of her freckled neck as she moved. She slapped the wooden object against her palm and clasped her fingers around it. “This is not the life you are so accustomed. No more animals for feast, no more chances to physically, or verbally attack those around you.”

  “Then how am I to get them to understand me if not with my fists and vulgarities?”

  She snarled, sensing my sarcasm. “You are soon to be a member of the king’s court, the wife of a prince. Speaking and acting in such a manner as this is strictly unsuitable. Now…” She rested the wooden object on a small table and whirled me around. Then she picked up a large book and sat it in the palms of her hands. “Place this on your head, at the center. And walk, without falling, from one side of the room to the other.”

  I took the book from her and nearly dropped it to the ground from the weight of it. “You’re entirely mad! I can barely lift this thing, let alone place it upon my skull and risk breaking my neck by crossing the room!” I shoved it back at her, but she wouldn’t take it.

  She crinkled her eyes and stared at me, perplexed. “Just as I thought.” She sniffed. “Your kind will not survive here.”

  “Really?” I cocked my head. “And what is, my kind?”

  “Improper. The royal family shall never accept you as their own. To them you will always be the dweller from the village. A vagabond, no better than a local gypsy.” She sighed, and even that came across as superior. “Now, place the book upon your head.”

  “I am not risking my neck and spine for a book!” I looked straight at her, unflinching, and dropped the book at her feet. She yelped and widened her eyes as she looked into mine. The sound of the book smacking against the concrete echoed throughout the room, like a horde of cattle racing toward us.

  She pointed to it and placed her other hand on her hip. “Pick it up.” We stared at one another for over a minute before she angrily relented. “OOF!” She snatched the book from the floor and fixed the creases in her gown. “The prince made a mistake in choosing you for a wife.�
��

  “Perhaps, but it was his mistake to make and no one else’s.”

  I headed for the door and she began waving her hand like a wild boar waving its horns.

  “Where are you going? I’ve yet to show you how to properly eat, with utensils, dress and wear your hair! For God sake! You’re still slouched even as you walk to the door.”

  I slammed it shut behind me as she crowed on and leaned back, exhaling. I couldn’t bear to deal with her any longer for fear of physically striking her until she begged for mercy, and thought to find Norvack. I needed to know what his plans were for the Sheriff.

  I traveled throughout the palace in a panic, eyes wide, heart racing, searching in every room and crossing various members of the staff until I heard his voice coming from one of the libraries down the corridor on the second floor. I crept closer to the door, stepping lightly so as not to make noise of my clacking heels, and pressed my ear against it, verifying that it was in fact him. I looked around, making sure no one was watching and listened in as closely as I could.

  “You are insane, Norvack!” I heard the Sheriff scream, his voice rattling against the walls. “The king shall have his own son’s head rotting on a spike in the gardens for this!”

  “Next to yours, perhaps?” Norvack replied coolly. His voice was controlled, unworried. “If you were certain of the truth, Sheriff, you would have informed my father long before now. And if he shall indeed learn of this current agreement, he shall also learn of the surrounding circumstances in regards to its occurrence.”

  Someone slammed their fist on a desk. I assumed it to be the Sheriff.

  “Damn you! This is nonsense!” he shouted. “Utter nonsense! The love for that woman has taken hold of every intelligent part of your mind! Just as any witch, she has possessed you fully. I vow that she be burned at the stake for placing a spell upon your soul.”