Hereafter (The Lost Princesses Book 3) Read online

  From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the king bestowing a smile on his wife before he lifted her hand and kissed it. For the first time since I’d met him, his dark eyes lost their edge and filled with tenderness.

  With how well everything was going, how could I have made a wrong choice in staying instead of joining the rebellion with my sisters? If the rebels could see the prince the way I had, they’d work toward a more peaceful resolution to the conflict too. Perhaps Providence had even placed me here for that very reason.

  Chapter

  12

  Rex

  I stood in the passageway outside Emmeline’s chamber door and blew out a taut breath. Father Patrick, several of the king’s closest advisors, other clergy, and a physician waited nearby with eyes downcast, as embarrassed as I was by our mission.

  With my hand poised to knock, I hesitated.

  The wedding at the church and the feasting in the great hall had both gone well. Emmeline was finally beginning to trust and like me. If I went into her chamber now, I was sure to lose all the ground I’d already won. And I didn’t want that to happen. I had only to remember her laughter and her kiss to know I wanted more of that, not less.

  I dropped my hand and then spun on the men behind me, giving them my fiercest glare. “I do not care what tradition requires. I shall not subject my wife to your scrutiny.”

  None dared to meet my gaze . . . except for Father Patrick. He nodded, his eyes brimming with understanding. “Your Royal Highness, if I might make a suggestion?”

  I crossed my arms and continued to scowl.

  Father Patrick cleared his throat. “Allow me to enter the princess’s chambers and pray over you both, then we shall all be on our way.”

  Several of the advisors began to object, but the priest spoke louder, cutting them off. “As I have been traveling with the prince and the princess these many days and have seen their growing affection, I am quite confident they shall have a true marriage. You have witnessed the affection this day, too, have you not?”

  I wanted to protest Father Patrick coming into Emmeline’s chamber. She’d find his presence odd and embarrassing as well. But the priest’s suggestion was reasonable and would hopefully satisfy the other men.

  By now, Emmeline had likely heard our commotion and was wondering what was going on. I held up my hand for silence. “Father Patrick may accompany me, and he will report back to you.”

  Under my harsh censure, the men again lowered their gazes. No one dared to contradict me. I suspected a few of them would inform the king of my break from tradition, but after witnessing Emmeline initiating a kiss with me after I’d given her my gifts, how could the king disapprove overly much?

  Whatever the case, Emmeline was my wife, and I would place her needs above tradition. I could only hope the king would understand since he felt the same about Mother.

  Without another moment of hesitation, I knocked. I didn’t wait for Emmeline’s invitation to come in. Instead, I swung the door open and stepped into the chamber.

  She was kneeling in the middle of the floor and in the process of tossing a rag ball across the room, sending the puppy scampering after it. She laughed as the puppy fumbled, tripped, and then slid into the rushes that covered the floor. At the sight of me, however, her smile turned suddenly shy.

  She stood and reached for the coverlet on the end of the bed, pulling it free and winding it around her frame, but not before I realized she was already wearing a nightgown. One of her maidservants rushed to her side and aided in draping the blanket over her, providing a measure of decency.

  When her eyes landed upon Father Patrick behind me, her smile faded away completely, and she backed up a step, wariness tightening her features.

  “Everyone leave us,” I growled, glaring once again, not only at Father Patrick but at the servants.

  The maidservants scurried to obey. Father Patrick raised a brow before retreating into the passageway.

  Emmeline had returned her attention to the puppy, who’d retrieved the ball in his mouth and was carrying it to her. She kneeled, picked it up, and quietly praised the pup, before lavishing her with scratches behind her neck and ears. The puppy’s tongue lolled, and her mouth curved up as though she were smiling.

  Emmeline held the ball out, spoke a short command, then tossed the object. The pup took after it again.

  Although the scene was adorable, I had eyes only for Emmeline. Her maidservants had plaited her hair into one long, thick braid down her back. Even by the low light of the wall sconces, I could see that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were filled with tenderness for the pup.

  “Have you decided upon a name for her?” I knelt next to her.

  Emmeline watched the pup hop onto the ball and this time roll end over end. “I have taken to calling her Ruby.”

  “Her coloring lends itself to such a name.”

  Emmeline’s gaze shifted to her ring, and she caressed the shining jewel at its center. “I chose the name to remind me of the one who gave her to me.”

  At her shy admission, my breath snagged. And when she sent me a sideways look full of admiration, my pulse tripped before racing forward at double the speed.

  This time when Ruby trotted to us with the ball, Emmeline directed the pup to drop it in front of me. “First you must praise her and earn her trust, then you can command her.”

  I did as Emmeline instructed, and soon the pup was obeying me as readily as Emmeline. After several minutes more of play, I finally sat back on my heels. “Emmeline, I regret that I must impose upon you tonight.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. Apparently, she guessed what I was insinuating.

  “As we have only just met, I would like to give you more time.” I glanced at the open door and grew agitated once more that everyone was waiting outside. “If our situation were different, I would have commanded your privacy.”

  She kept her gaze squarely focused upon Ruby, rolling the pup over to her back and scratching her belly.

  I leaned in and lowered my voice. “The men have come to usher me to my marriage bed, but I shall only allow Father Patrick inside the room.”

  Her fingers began to tremble, and she quickly pulled them from Ruby and tucked them within the folds of the coverlet still draped around her.

  Before she could hide her hands away completely, I reached for one and held it tightly. “Emmeline, I promise after he departs, I shall sleep on the floor. I would leave you to yourself entirely if I could. But such an arrangement is the best I can offer under the circumstances.”

  Even in the low light, I could sense her mortification and wished to alleviate it. But I’d already conceded enough.

  After a moment, her hand relaxed within mine. “So we shall playact for everyone but shall privately remain chaste?”

  “Rest assured, I shall not be playacting.” I stroked my thumb along her wrist and relished the smoothness of her skin.

  “And what if I am?”

  “Then ’twill not be playacting for long, Princess.”

  She ducked her head, but I could see a smile tug at her lips.

  I lifted my fingers to her cheek and drew a path from her ear to her chin. “And I shall certainly not sleep on the floor for many nights.”

  When she didn’t protest, I took courage and stood, drawing her up with me. “Father Patrick, you may come inside now.”

  My faithful priest entered the room again, his robes billowing and his brows high as though questioning whether everything was in order.

  I nodded and drew Emmeline to my side. “We are ready.”

  From my pallet on the floor, I held myself stiffly. In the bed, Emmeline’s shifting and turning and soft sighs only made me all the more aware that we were alone in her bedchamber on our wedding night.

  Had I been too rash in my decision not to share the bed? Though I’d sent away all the servants, there was still the chance someone could open the door and catch me on the floor. If word leaked that we had not shared t
he marriage bed, I had no doubt the rebels would use the knowledge to cast suspicion upon the authenticity of our marriage and work against all we’d accomplished through the union.

  My thoughts strayed to the crowds during the afternoon when we’d exited the chapel. I’d scooped Emmeline up and carried her to my steed to the roaring approval of onlookers. Throughout the ride back to the castle, people had strained to get a glimpse of the princess. All it had taken was one look at her smile and her beauty for them to be smitten. I’d seen it on face after face. Everyone loved her and loved us together.

  After today, I could only pray the citizens of Mercia would stand strong against Adelaide’s encroaching army and refuse to welcome her.

  “Rex?” Emmeline’s whisper was near the edge of the bed.

  I glanced up through the dark to see the outline of her face peering down. “Yes?”

  “Are you asleep?” she asked.

  “Very much so.”

  She paused. “No, you’re not.”

  I was tempted to tell her I probably wouldn’t get any sleep this night or in the nights to come so long as I lay this near to her, but I bit the comment back.

  “Will you show me the scriptorium soon?”

  “I shall if it would please you.”

  “I’d like to know what you’ve read and recommend.”

  “I have not read nearly enough,” I admitted. “But I may be able to suggest a few manuscripts.”

  She released what could only be described as a happy sigh.

  For a reason I couldn’t begin to explain, her happiness filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. During all those months of searching for the princess, I hadn’t known what to expect from her, hadn’t known whether I’d even like her, had resigned myself to the marriage no matter what. I’d never dreamed my feelings for this woman could develop so strongly and quickly.

  “Do you remember what your life was like here in the castle when you were a little boy? Before you were sent away to Warwick?”

  Was that a note of wistfulness in her question? Was she wondering what her own life might have been like if she’d lived here with her family—the family my father had destroyed?

  Something pricked at the back of my conscience, something akin to guilt.

  I’d been but a young lad when the king had started his military campaign to reunite Mercia and Warwick into one country as it had been under Alfred the Peacemaker long ago. With the king’s own army along with hired mercenaries, the battle for Mercia had been fierce but quick.

  Only after he’d assured his place on the throne of the unified kingdom of Bryttania had he sent for his family. I’d arrived in Delsworth with my mother and the newly-birthed Magnus. Even though I didn’t remember much about those early years, I had the vague recollection of the king’s anger when he’d learned of plots to bring about my demise. He’d then sent me back to Warwick, away from the trouble, and there I’d remained in seclusion for most of my life.

  While growing up, I’d always assumed the king had every right to take the throne of Mercia away from King Francis and his descendants. My father claimed King Alfred never should have split the country between his twin daughters, that he should have given the kingdom to the older twin, Margery.

  But everything I’d read and learned about Queen Margery had proven her to be a cruel and selfish woman. Perhaps King Alfred had seen those traits within his older twin daughter and had decided she wouldn’t make a good leader. Perhaps he’d thought she only deserved half the kingdom.

  There was no denying that Queen Margery’s inheritance—Warwick to the south of Mercia—had suffered and fallen into decline. Margery had demanded much of her subjects and had given very little to them in return.

  Her son, King Ethelbard, had lived lavishly, too, continuing to drain the country known for its rich jewels, until nothing had remained. Trade and commerce had all but ceased, the people had suffered extreme poverty, and the land had become barren and depleted.

  When my father came to the throne, he inherited a kingdom in shambles and disarray. Since he belonged to a lineage of fierce warriors on his father’s side, he did what he knew best—he fought.

  Within several years, he’d amassed a strong force and had begun attacking Mercia’s southern borders. Facing the vast Inglewood Forest serving as Mercia’s natural defense, my father had finally changed tactics. He’d sold off the royal family’s remaining jewels and hired the seafaring Danes as well as the lethal Saracens, and then he’d sailed to Delsworth, the stately capital of the old kingdom and the main residence of King Francis.

  During the Battle of Delsworth, King Francis had been fatally wounded. His wife, Queen Dierdal, had died giving birth to Emmeline and her twin sister. It had been rumored that servants had escaped with the princesses. But for years afterward, no one had known what had really become of the princesses—whether they’d lived or died.

  What would my father have done to the three princesses if he’d captured them? No doubt he would have executed them as he’d done with many others in an effort to solidify his reign.

  I’d never concerned myself with the fate of the lost princesses before, never cared, never believed they mattered. My mentor, Lord Kennard, had fully supported the king’s rule over the united kingdom and had done everything within his power to ensure I was ready to assume leadership one day. He’d certainly never given credence to the rights of the displaced princesses, had always taught me that I’d become the next ruler, and had assured me I’d make a great king.

  But now that one of the princesses was my bride, this battle between the two houses over Mercia’s throne had grown much more personal. And I realized I hated the idea that the king might have killed Emmeline or her sisters. Even now, he still considered Emmeline his enemy, though she was my wife, and that thought filled me with unease.

  “Tell me what you were like as a little boy,” Emmeline said softly, bringing me out of my reverie to focus on her again. “I should like to hear about your naughtiest escapades.”

  “All? They are so numerous my tales would keep you awake the whole night long.”

  “I don’t mind.” Again her voice was happy.

  “Very well. But I shall only tell one of my naughty deeds at the telling of one of your own.”

  “I was never naughty.”

  I chuckled.

  “Not purposefully,” she added with a breathless laugh.

  Pushing aside my concerns, I settled back, crossed my arms behind my head, and let the satisfaction of the moment surround me. I had a feeling the night would go much too fast, but then reminded myself that tonight was only the beginning. We had forever together.

  Chapter

  13

  Rex

  I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes wearily. From the fading daylight outside the open windows of the antechamber, I guessed the hour to be drawing nigh to supper. With the lengthening shadows across the stuffy room, servants had already lit the wall sconces and candelabrum.

  A dozen other men were seated with me and the king around the long oaken table. Their lined foreheads and heavy eyelids attested to their weariness as well. If I called an end to the meeting, they’d surely agree to it.

  But they’d also see it as a sign of weakness on my part and rightly conclude I was more interested in seeing my wife than I was in supping.

  Unavoidably, the days following our wedding had proven to be busy. With the impending siege from Queen Adelaide Constance, townspeople and castle staff were frantically stocking up on supplies while I oversaw the defense of both the town and castle.

  I’d spent hours in urgent meetings with advisors and military leaders devising a strategy on the best way to protect Delsworth. I’d confirmed we had the necessary weapons and manpower. And I’d toured the walls and ramparts, making sure everything was in order.

  By the time I was able to retire at night, the hour was well past midnight, and I was too exhausted to visit with Emmeline. Although I’d promised her
I’d show her the scriptorium, I’d quickly realized our time together would have to wait.

  Just that morning, I managed one brief break to stroll in the garden with her and the new puppy. With the queen’s rebel forces having made landfall at dawn, I could spare no more than a few minutes, enough to answer her worried questions about the siege and to assure her I was doing what I could to work toward a peaceful resolution.

  “We must dispatch word to the Danes,” the king was saying again from his position at the head of the table. “If we can get a messenger through to them of our need for aid, they will be here within a week.”

  I toyed with the goblet in front of me. Already we’d discussed the various options. I wanted to send a delegation to the queen and attempt to persuade her to accept Emmeline’s place in the new royal lineage for the House of Mercia. Perhaps then we could avoid a war.

  Yet, I was afraid the queen wouldn’t be swayed. She must have received word of our marriage by now. But even with the news, her army, along with Norland’s, were coming ashore and making camp southwest of the city along the banks of the Cress River.

  Most of the advisors, including the king, concluded that war was inevitable and favored seeking the assistance of the Danes. If we couldn’t negotiate peace, then having the help of the sea-faring warriors was our next best alternative. We needed to instruct them to surround and attack the foreign ships, drawing the queen’s forces away from the town. Then, once the rebels were distracted, we would be able to launch our own onslaught.

  While the plan was sound, there was one major problem: the kingdom’s coffers were empty, and we had no way to pay mercenaries to come to our aid.

  Since I wasn’t involved in the financial decisions the king made, I didn’t have full knowledge of how our steward managed affairs. But I hadn’t been surprised when the king had ordered another increase in taxes earlier in the year.

  Of course, the king had called upon his elite guards to keep the peace by locking away the most violent and vocal of the protestors. We’d had to make examples of some who refused to pay. After all, citizens had to understand their taxes helped secure the defense and well-being of their nation. The taxes were for the common good of all.