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Authors: Lori Folkman
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they had been on the day she arrived at the castle. It sent a chill down her spine. He blinked and broke eye-contact. Moments later, he returned his gaze to hers. “You heard?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted shamefully.
He merely nodded and then left the room, his footsteps first echoing in her ears and then in her heart. She sank into her seat, her heart beating heavily within her chest. Her eyes stung with tears. King Henrick wanted her to hear his exchange with his son, as the king thought she was behaving inappropriately as well. She gathered up her sewing and retreated to her bedchambers where she threw the tapestry, threads and needles on the floor. Her cheeks were hot with rage and humiliation. She stomped her foot against the rough wood floor, forcing the tears from her eyes. She would not cry over the Prince of Deltegra. He had already consumed enough of her tears.
The king said Donovan was playing a dangerous game, but it was not Donovan who had initiated the game. She had. Intentionally. She had hoped to woo the prince—to make him fall for her again. Then he would feel remorse and no longer want to keep her as a prisoner. Her ploy was reckless and gave no heed to Donovan’s heart. But he was supposed to be the enemy and she should not care if she hurt him. Yet, the more she thought of it, she realized it was no ploy. She wanted his love. She needed it. And most likely, it would not result in her freedom. It would only make matters worse. She was lawfully married to another. Her heart should belong to Leif.
Illianah fell to the bed. She could no longer contain her tears. She was wretched. King Henrick was right to warn his son. She could not be trusted—not when Donovan’s heart was the item of her conquest.
***
The next few days passed with Illianah spending as much time in her bedchamber as possible. She only left for meals with the king and the prince. During the meals, she remained silent and aloof and again took to wearing a partlet. Donovan seemed to share her shame, as he kept his eyes away from hers and spoke very few words.
Despite her solemnity, the castle buzzed with excitement. The battle at the border continued to fall in favor of the Deltegrans, encouraging their once meager military powers. Illianah wondered what this meant for her.
Her answer came when she was summoned to the solar. Post had arrived.
Donovan sat at the table near the fire. His eyes lifted when she entered the room. “You have a letter for me?” she asked, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
“Yes, two actually. One from Madame Partlet. And the other from Prince Harrington.”
She saw the folded parchments on the table and reached for the one that was clearly written in Leif’s hand. “Perhaps you would like to hear from your lady first,” Donovan said, holding out the other letter.
“Nonsense. I will not disrespect my husband by choosing Madame Partlet’s letter over his.”
There was something about Donovan’s eyes that was different. It was almost a look of pity that he wore. Not his own pity— but pity for her. She ignored whatever emotion he wanted to convey and grabbed the letter. She sat in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth and read:
Illianah,
I am deeply pained to have lost you, yet know I did not cause your imprisonment. You were to stay safely within the confines of the chapel, where no Deltegran soldier would dare to invade, yet you disobeyed orders and put yourself and Lord Braithwell—who I am told went out to rescue you—in danger. Your imprudence is the cause of your current situation.
My duty is first to your father and the kingdom of Burchess. If I am to be king someday, I must prove my undying loyalty to the kingdom that has so graciously adopted me as one of their own. It would be well if you thought less of yourself and more of the welfare of Burchess.
I am leading the Battle at Laencia. It has proven difficult for our troops. Deltegra is stronger and
“Yes,” she admitted shamefully.
He merely nodded and then left the room, his footsteps first echoing in her ears and then in her heart. She sank into her seat, her heart beating heavily within her chest. Her eyes stung with tears. King Henrick wanted her to hear his exchange with his son, as the king thought she was behaving inappropriately as well. She gathered up her sewing and retreated to her bedchambers where she threw the tapestry, threads and needles on the floor. Her cheeks were hot with rage and humiliation. She stomped her foot against the rough wood floor, forcing the tears from her eyes. She would not cry over the Prince of Deltegra. He had already consumed enough of her tears.
The king said Donovan was playing a dangerous game, but it was not Donovan who had initiated the game. She had. Intentionally. She had hoped to woo the prince—to make him fall for her again. Then he would feel remorse and no longer want to keep her as a prisoner. Her ploy was reckless and gave no heed to Donovan’s heart. But he was supposed to be the enemy and she should not care if she hurt him. Yet, the more she thought of it, she realized it was no ploy. She wanted his love. She needed it. And most likely, it would not result in her freedom. It would only make matters worse. She was lawfully married to another. Her heart should belong to Leif.
Illianah fell to the bed. She could no longer contain her tears. She was wretched. King Henrick was right to warn his son. She could not be trusted—not when Donovan’s heart was the item of her conquest.
***
The next few days passed with Illianah spending as much time in her bedchamber as possible. She only left for meals with the king and the prince. During the meals, she remained silent and aloof and again took to wearing a partlet. Donovan seemed to share her shame, as he kept his eyes away from hers and spoke very few words.
Despite her solemnity, the castle buzzed with excitement. The battle at the border continued to fall in favor of the Deltegrans, encouraging their once meager military powers. Illianah wondered what this meant for her.
Her answer came when she was summoned to the solar. Post had arrived.
Donovan sat at the table near the fire. His eyes lifted when she entered the room. “You have a letter for me?” she asked, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
“Yes, two actually. One from Madame Partlet. And the other from Prince Harrington.”
She saw the folded parchments on the table and reached for the one that was clearly written in Leif’s hand. “Perhaps you would like to hear from your lady first,” Donovan said, holding out the other letter.
“Nonsense. I will not disrespect my husband by choosing Madame Partlet’s letter over his.”
There was something about Donovan’s eyes that was different. It was almost a look of pity that he wore. Not his own pity— but pity for her. She ignored whatever emotion he wanted to convey and grabbed the letter. She sat in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth and read:
Illianah,
I am deeply pained to have lost you, yet know I did not cause your imprisonment. You were to stay safely within the confines of the chapel, where no Deltegran soldier would dare to invade, yet you disobeyed orders and put yourself and Lord Braithwell—who I am told went out to rescue you—in danger. Your imprudence is the cause of your current situation.
My duty is first to your father and the kingdom of Burchess. If I am to be king someday, I must prove my undying loyalty to the kingdom that has so graciously adopted me as one of their own. It would be well if you thought less of yourself and more of the welfare of Burchess.
I am leading the Battle at Laencia. It has proven difficult for our troops. Deltegra is stronger and
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