Page 3 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

He shrugs. “Not many have left Lauramore. Most are staying through the wedding.”

“I don’t understand. You just said the victor was carried away by a dragon. ”

“The win went to Lord Archer of Errinton.”

I try to place the man’s face. “I know no one by that name.”

But I do know only vile things come from Errinton.

“No one did,” a woman across from us interrupts. “He was Lauramore’s master archer. He and the princess fell in love not knowing he was titled.” She sighs. “Lord Rigel of Errinton discovered his heritage, and Archer won the tournament.”

The man scowls at the woman for stealing his story. “We thought the win would go to Prince Galinor of Glendon, but it turns out Archer was completing all the events for him.”

I blink at him, surprised. How dishonorable.

“And you are?” I ask the pair. With how familiar they are with each other, they must be traveling together.

“I am Emery,” the woman says. “And this is Geoff. We work in the kitchens. We traveled to Glendon to buy beef for the wedding feast.”

“When is the wedding?” I ask.

“Three days,” Geoff answers.

What am I going to do for three days? I don’t want to spend them like the first few weeks away from home, scrubbing floors and hanging laundry, but I have used all my coins to get here.

I stare out the window again. It’s already been a fortnight since I last saw Dimitri, and I am eager to find him, retrieve Mara and the changeling stone, and return home.

Unless it was all a misunderstanding—then maybe we can still be together.

Say, perhaps, we were under attack, and the only way Dimitri could keep me safe was to leave me hidden in the woods.

Or, possibly, he felt so terrible for separating me from my family and home that he left me there in a noble, heart-wrenching display of chivalry—and all he took to remember me by was the changeling stone…

and my dress…the necklace he gave me…and my horse.

My hands clench into fists in my lap, but I take a deep breath and release them. “Are they hiring entertainment for the feast?”

The pair eyes me. I fidget under their gaze, wondering if they will see through my ridiculous costume. At least Inger gave me fabric to sew a more modest bodice.

“Tambourine girl?” Emery asks.

I lick my lips. “I can do that.”

“I’ll introduce you to Master Draeger when we reach the palace. He arranges the music for the dinners and festivals.”

I smile, feeling both relieved and nervous. I can shake a tambourine if I must. How hard can it be?

“Watch where you are going, peasant,” a woman sneers.

I barely bumped into her.

Cringing, I apologize and attempt to right her extremely tall hat, which I have knocked askew. She bats my hand away, affronted, and harrumphs as she disappears into the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” I call after her.

From across the hall, I feel Master Draeger’s scowl.

I clap my hands together, making the tambourine jingle.

I attempt to swirl about the room “gracefully, beautifully, and moving as an extension of the music itself”—exactly as Draeger instructed.

Instead, I crash into the arms of one of the visiting princes.

The exact prince I have been avoiding all evening.

Surprise flashes across Irving’s face, and then it falls away to amusement. “Lady Anwen?”

“Shhh,” I hiss, looking around to make sure no one has overheard.

In a lower voice, he asks, “Darling, whatever are you doing?”

“I can’t tell you, Irving.”

He grins, and it’s a wicked, beautiful thing. “You must. I am your prince, and as my oh-so-lovely subject, you have no choice.”

I laugh despite myself. “Can’t you tell? I’ve run away from home to become a performer.”

“A noble choice, to be sure,” the Crown-prince of Primewood says, grinning. “But I don’t believe you.”

I raise my eyebrows and shake the tambourine for emphasis.

“No one could look at lovely you, and think you are a tambourine girl,” he whispers, his voice dripping with honey.

“I believe I have most fooled.”

He pulls me into his arms and guides me to the music. I notice he’s limping slightly, and I motion to his leg. “What happened to you?”

“Dragon.” He waves the question away. “But I believe we were speaking of you. What I meant was, despite how lovely you are, you make a pathetic tambourine girl.”

I laugh and smack his shoulder with the instrument. He winces, and I realize he must have been injured there as well. “Oh, Irving,” I say with a cringe. “I’m sorry.”

The pain slowly leaves his face, and he smiles again. “I mean it, love. You are the worst entertainer I have ever seen. What are you really doing here?”

Draeger scowls at me, but I give him a helpless look as Irving leads me around the hall. Surely the music master wouldn’t expect a mere peasant girl to refuse a prince a dance?

“I met a man from one of the traveling troupes,” I begin, keeping my voice low so only Irving can hear. “And he asked me to run away with him.”

Irving pauses in the dance and gapes at me. “You ran away with a—”

“I’m afraid that’s not all,” I interrupt. “He left me in the woods, robbed me of something very dear, and now I’m posing as a one of them, trying to track him down.”

“Marry me.” Irving’s dark brown eyes go wide. “Tonight—right now. I think I love you.”

He’s as flippant with his words as always.

“You asked me when I was twelve years old, remember? Then later that day I saw you kiss a milkmaid. You broke my heart.”

We both know it’s not the only time Irving has broken my heart, but I don’t bring that up now.

“I am fully sincere.” He grins. “Besides, you must—you said yes that day.”

I laugh. “You are an idiot. ”

“I could have you hanged for that.”

“But you won’t.”

We swirl around the hall a little more, and for a moment I allow myself to enjoy the evening.

“Is he here? This scoundrel of yours?”

“I haven’t seen him,” I say with a groan. “Who knows where he is?”

“Your parents must be beside themselves with worry.”

“I know.” It’s not the first time I’ve thought about them, but Irving reminds me of Primewood. Now I am so homesick I think I might actually cry. “I can’t go back, Irving—not empty-handed.”

“What is it the man took? Perhaps we can find another.”

His promise isn’t an empty one. Irving, though free with his affections, is generous and kind. It’s the only reason I trust him at all.

“A stone. My father wears it on a chain around his neck. He says it was a gift of fairies. It’s precious to him.”

“What kind of stone?”

I bite my lip and then cringe as I answer, “A changeling stone.”

Irving’s eyes widen in surprise, and he leans in. “Anwen, truly?”

I nod, feeling sick.

“I’ve never seen one—not in my life. Is it real? Can you change with it?”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head, marveling at my words. “What have you changed into?”

“I’ve altered my features—the shade of my hair, the color of my eyes. When I was young, I thought it was a lark to change into creatures. I’ve been a horse, a unicorn, a wolf, a fox…I changed into a dragon once, but it was so painful I never tried again.”

Irving gapes at me now. “How did this man steal it from you?”

I groan and hide my eyes behind my hand. “I gave it to him.”

His hands drop. After a moment, he takes me by the shoulders. “It will be all right. We will figure this out.”

“We?”

“Yes. Tonight, I will send a message to your parents, so they know you are safe.

I shake my head. “No, you mustn’t tell—”

“I won’t.” He looks unusually serious and regal. “But they need to know you are all right.”

I nod in agreement.

He sets me free, waving me back to the crowd. “Go. Entertain.”

I grab his hand before he leaves. “Irving, thank you.”

He winks before he slips into the crowd. With renewed spirits, I dance across the hall. I twirl and shake the tambourine high in the air, but as I turn, I lose my footing and bump into someone. As I look over my shoulder to apologize, I gasp.

The servingman’s tray of cider tilts sideways.

I reach for him, trying to help, but the tips of my fingers hit the ledge, sending it careening down and over.

Helpless, I watch as the goblets slide from the falling tray and crash over the head of a dark-haired man at the table next to us.

He looks up just before the liquid hits .

The cider spills over his hair, down his neck, and soaks his tunic. He gapes at the serving man. When the server motions in my direction, the drenched man turns to me.

I’m pinned to the spot when his furious, piercingly-blue eyes meet mine.