Page 28

The night bell of the great cathedral tolls and a frisson of nervousness and excitement runs through me.

I had agreed with the prince that when it sounded I would come to his chamber.

In truth, I thought he had either forgotten about our silly wager or had decided not to hold me to it as we had pleasantly chatted over dessert and exchanged stories about our childhoods whilst sipping our brandies.

However, it seems he is intent on challenging me, as before he left my chamber he reminded me of our agreement and made it quite clear he expected me to uphold my end of it.

The last peal of the bell sounds across the city and with a slight tremour in my hand I reach out to pull the red velvet cord beside my bed.

This is the so-called cord of passion which is connected to the King's chambers, the same chambers in which I had the prince placed for the duration of his stay.

The red cord has been used by the queens of Ardvalla over the years to let their king know when they wish him to visit her chamber.

As I pull it I know a small bell will tinkle in the King's chambers. I explained to the prince this will signify to him that I’m coming.

I move towards the fireplace and press my hand against a well-worn stone.

Immediately, a part of the wall slides back to reveal a small passageway known as the Queen's Passage.

It was put in place when the castle was built to facilitate intimacies between the king and queen without having every courtier in the castle knowing when those intimacies take place.

Its existence is a secret which is only ever revealed to the most trusted servants and aides.

Therefore, the only members of my court who know about it are Kes and the Khaleeni.

I take a candle to light my way and tentatively step into the dark space and start to make my way along its stony interior, as many a queen has before me.

However, those queens were making their way towards their husbands.

I’m making my way towards a man I barely know and who might become my husband, but tonight he is just a prospect, albeit a very tantalising one.

I'm still not clear as to what he expects of me for this night and my heart beats like a racehorse on the final furlong as I contemplate the possibilities.

I had briefly considered not showing up but I know this is a test. I know he wants to see if I’m a woman of my word and one he can trust. The question that has my heart pounding is how much can I trust him?

He hasn't given me any reason to think he isn't a man of honour, but I have no way of knowing for sure or if he will respect my wishes should I reject his advances.

And there's also the big elephant in the room, or I should say, passageway, the other reason for my pounding heart.

A bigger part of me wants to feel his lips on mine again than the part that doesn't, and a very big part of me wants to feel his arms come around me and his fingers running through my hair.

If I'm honest, I want all this and more.

I finally reach the secret door to his chambers and pause to catch my breath and steady my breathing.

I feel flushed with excitement but nervous about what the night may bring.

My hand hovers over the stone that opens the door.

I know once I press it and open that door, there's no going back.

I'm not just opening a door but a world of possibilities, and one in which I don’t hold all the control.

Deep breath.

Exhale.

My fingers press the stone.

A secret door slides open and there standing on the other side of it is the prince.

He grins, and a warmth moves through my body at his obvious pleasure in my presence. “You came,” he says, stating the obvious, but there’s a hint of surprise in his voice.

“We had an agreement, and I told you, I am a woman of my word.”

He takes my hand. “Come, join me.”

I let him lead me into my father’s old chambers. He brings me towards the fireplace where a number of logs are burning in the grate and gestures for me to sit in one of the two chairs placed in front of it. He then pours me a brandy and hands it to me.

“I somehow suspect you also considered not coming,” he observes, and I know this is a further test to see if I will admit that which we both know to be true.

I smile. “Of course I considered not coming, but I’m not in the habit of brokering deals and then not honouring them.”

He laughs. “A woman of honour and honest, both fine qualities in a queen and…” he pauses, “a wife.”

I return his smile and sip my brandy, grateful for its soothing warmth as it flows through my veins. For some reason I’m more nervous in the prince’s presence right now than I have been at any time since I abducted him.

“Relax, Queen Elinor, you are quite safe with me,” he says as he places a finger under my chin and raises my head to look into his eyes. “Let’s try and add trusting to that list of qualities, shall we?”

The sincerity I see in his eyes puts me at my ease and I feel my shoulders sag slightly in relief.

“That’s better,” he says as he sits in the chair opposite. “I must say, it’s quite a system you have in place for the king and queen to let each other know when they feel like a bit of lovemaking.”

I blush at his words, unaccustomed as I am to speaking about such things with anybody. “Thank you,” I reply.

“Tell me, is it customary for the king and queen of Ardvalla to sleep separately from each other?”

I look at him, somewhat surprised by his question, as I've always assumed it's customary for all kings and queens to sleep in separate chambers. “Yes,” I reply, “is it not so in Ellerban?”

He snorts and laughs at the same time. “By the gods, it most certainly is not,” he declares.

“No self-respecting king of Ellerban would allow his queen to sleep on her own. He would be perceived as a failure as a husband and that's not a good thing for an Ellerban king. Family is everything to the Ellerban and that starts with the father and mother. If a man can’t keep his wife happily in his bed then questions must be asked as to why not. No king wants such questions asked of him.”

I'm quite taken aback by this information and my surprise must show on my face as the prince chuckles at my expression. “Oh, my young queen, I think there is much you have to learn, and I must admit I'm rather looking forward to being your teacher.”

He drains the rest of the brandy from his glass and stands. He takes my glass from my hand and places it on a nearby table, then turns to me with an outstretched hand. “Come here to me,” he demands in a soft voice.

I stand, take his hand and slowly look up into his eyes.

“Do you trust me, Queen Elinor?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

I stare into his eyes and find myself getting lost in their green depths.

His eyes hold so much. They speak of intelligence and humour, honour and integrity, of great joy and enormous sadness, and I find myself wanting to ask him any number of questions.

However, he has asked me a question and he awaits my reply.

“Somewhat,” I reply. “I'm sure you're well aware trust is earned, Prince Ronan, and whereas you've not given me any reason not to trust you, there's no reason why I should.”

“I'm not asking you what you should feel, Queen Elinor. I'm asking you what you actually feel. What's in your heart?” His eyes bore into mine as if he is seeking the answer to his question within their depths.

My pulse is racing, which is ironic considering I can barely breathe, such is the intensity of his gaze.

Do I trust him? I ask myself and the answer surprises me. From everything I’ve seen of this man, and as infuriating as he can be with his unreasonable requests, I realise I trust him more than most people I've known my whole life.

“Despite the fact you infuriate me with your vexatious demands, Prince Ronan, I find myself trusting you more than I possibly should.”

He smiles, “Ah, but my young queen, I make those demands for your own good.” With that, he tugs me towards him and places his lips upon mine in a tender kiss.

Such is the exquisite tenderness of his kiss that I have a sense of falling, not in a physical sense but as if the world has fallen away from me and it’s just the prince and I suspended in air.

I bring my hands to his shoulders and clutch at his tunic to anchor myself before this kiss causes me to lose my emotional footing.

I never thought such a kiss possible, especially not from a man as gruff and brash as the prince can be.

His arms come around me and he pulls his lips away from mine. “I've got you, Queen Elinor, place your trust in me and I promise I will never break it.”

I look up into his face and am touched by the integrity of his words, underscored by the sincerity of his expression, and all I can do in response is smile and give a slight nod.

His large hand comes around to the back of my head and his fingers tangle themselves in my hair.

He pulls my head to his chest. “Good,” he whispers into my hair as I listen to the solid beat of his heart, “we have honour, honesty and trust between us already, which is more than most kings and queens have upon entering into a marriage.”

I smile into his granite-like chest. His point is a good one, and those things that exist between us already are more than I ever hoped for in a prospective husband.

He holds me for a few moments more before whispering one simple word into my ear.

“Come,” as he takes my hand and leads me towards the bed.

If anyone had asked me before the night bell tolled how I would feel if the prince wished to take me to his bed, I would have told them that I imagined I would be a bag of nerves.

However, here I am, about to join him in his innermost private chamber, and instead of feeling nervous I have a sense of calm.