Page 15 of His Noble Savior (Folk of Vale #3)
Richard
Richard didn’t want to marry Princess Bellerose. She was the bride of everyone’s dreams: of royal blood, intelligent and attractive. She walked with her head held high, and Richard bet that her sword-fighting skills matched those of her knights. Marrying her promised protection. He’d be foolish not to court her.
Maybe he was being foolish. Despite Bellerose’s obvious qualities and the advantages their union would bring, the thought of marrying her made him nauseous. She wasn’t the one he wanted. Their personalities would clash—Richard was a provider. He looked after and protected his younger brothers and now Lilian, too. Bellerose was a princess and he a baron, making him the lower-ranking spouse. He’d be expected to defer to her. Kneel for her. The marriage bond would connect his soul to hers, emotions flowing freely between them. Richard couldn’t do it.
But an alliance with the Spring Court would deliver troops to the front and hold off the orcs. Spring fae knights would be combing the forests of southern Vale in search of Nathan. It was such a dilemma. Not marrying Bellerose meant abandoning his brother and his country.
And if Richard decided against Bellerose, how could he wiggle out of this without causing a diplomatic incident? The princess was inside his castle’s walls, and he knew better than to be rude to a fae, such a powerful one no less. If he blew off the courtship on the day of her arrival, or worse, asked her to leave, he’d attract the wrath of the Spring Court. It’d put Lilian in danger. Bellerose wouldn’t take it kindly if Richard favored an ordinary fae over her. Lilian was anything but ordinary, but Bellerose wouldn’t see it that way. Angering her could have devastating consequences for Lilian, Richard, and the Dalton barony.
When they ate in the dining hall that night, Richard was rigid with tension. The dark, wood-paneled walls on both sides of the narrow room were closing in on him, the portraits of his ancestors looking down at him with disdain. If he didn’t please Bellerose, she could ruin his house.
They sat on opposite ends of the long table, Bellerose perfectly poised, the chandeliers throwing golden light onto her hair. Richard hadn’t had the heart to sit apart from Lilian, who’d taken a seat to his right. Tremors rattled him until Richard extended a leg under the table and touched a foot to his.
George and Resh sat to Richard’s left, George visibly uncomfortable with the situation—he ought to have figured out Richard and Lilian were lovers. Resh, on the other hand, was inappropriately amused, grinning from ear to ear. Bloody imps.
The rest of the chairs were filled with the highest-ranking members of Bellerose’s royal household: lords, ladies and knights. The servants brought steaming bowls of stew, and the scent of boiled vegetables and herbs rolled over the table. Throughout the starter, Richard and Bellerose engaged in polite but meaningless conversation about the weather, last year’s harvest, and the history of Somerdale Castle.
Richard was relieved the cook had been able to throw together a meal for such a large dining party. The servants had rushed to ready the guest chambers upon Bellerose’s unexpected arrival and were still cleaning hers when she appeared at its threshold. She took the lack of preparation in stride and didn’t complain.
When the table finished their starters, the attendants collected the empty plates and disappeared with them, tense silence settling over the table. Richard prayed they’d deliver the main course swiftly. In the uncomfortable stillness, Bellerose’s eyes glided from him to Lilian. He hadn’t explained Lilian’s presence at the castle.
“I see you’ve taken a spring fae lover,” Bellerose said so casually, it took a moment for the shock to bolt through Richard. Lilian didn’t move a muscle. “I appreciate that you’re familiarizing yourself with my kind before our wedding.”
Were they that obvious? Didn’t she mind?
“Lilian has been a guest at my castle for some time,” Richard said evasively. He didn’t want to confirm or deny Bellerose’s statement and risk angering her.
“I don’t mind him showing you the ropes. I’m no jealous woman, and our betrothal is subject to further negotiation.”
Richard kept his expression blank. It was a good sign that Bellerose took his relationship with Lilian lightly, though he wasn’t sure what to make of that. If he wed Bellerose, was this going to be one of those marriages where it was clear both spouses would keep a lover on the side? Did Bellerose have a lover? Perhaps one of the lords or ladies at this very table? That’d make things easier, though Richard wasn’t one to split his love. He had no idea for how long Lilian would stay, but he deserved better than being Richard’s kept man.
“Of course,” Bellerose said, interrupting his train of thought, “once we’re married, I expect your unconditional loyalty.”
“Of course,” Richard echoed, an answer so ambiguous, any fae would’ve been proud of it.
If Bellerose noticed his evasion, she didn’t comment on it. Before either of them could say anything else, the servants marched into the room, carrying heavy platters of sliced dumplings served with gravy, sauteed red cabbage and fried mushrooms.
For dessert, Bellerose’s cook had joined Somerdale Castle’s kitchen and prepared one of the many types of spring faerie cake. It came in peach-sized servings of baked dough in a bed of leaves and was topped with a green paste sprinkled with small, glossy pearls Lilian swore were edible.
While it was unwise to consume faerie food in their realm, it was equally dangerous to refuse it in the human world. Richard was skeptical of the cake, but he picked up his serving by the leaves at the bottom and took a bite. It was startlingly sweet. The green paste was coarse on his tongue but then melted into sticky goodness. Liquid butter oozed from the dough, and he should’ve been sick from the strange combination of fat and sweetness, but he enjoyed it tremendously. Lilian was happy too, his eyes closing as he took ravenous bites of cake.
Richard was going to instruct his cook to take notes so she could replicate the recipes for Lilian. The edible leaves dissolved to nothing in his mouth, leaving a faint minty taste in their wake. Not bad.
Nobody wanted to linger once they’d finished dessert, and the dining party rose from their chairs, Bellerose and her household returning to their guest chambers on the upper floors. Richard threw Lilian a surreptitious glance. He’d been quiet and followed Richard to his chambers like a shadow. They didn’t dare to touch with the princess’s court swarming the castle. When the door to Richard’s bedchamber shut behind them with a resounding click , their shoulders sagged in relief.
Lilian looked at his hands. An air of dejection surrounded him, and it didn’t lift when Richard set a hand on his arm.
“I understand,” Lilian said, his voice breaking.
“What do you understand?”
A long pause. “That you’ll marry her. It makes sense. She’s bright and capable, a good match for you. And with the war raging in the south, it’s not like you have a choice. I get it.”
Richard’s throat closed. He couldn’t get a word out. His body spoke for him, taking Lilian into his arms and holding his small, slender frame close.