Traitor, page 3
My mind reeled as I inclined my head to passing guests. I would’ve hardly applied the word fortunate to my situation.
“It has taken me some time to get used to this new development. I would’ve scarcely known what to write.” Not that I would’ve owed her a letter, in any case. “But yes, I suppose it is advantageous that my father was able to arrange this marriage so soon after—”
Her grin turned conspiratorial. “I suppose the swifter the better. Perhaps news of your little mishap hasn’t reached Delunia yet.”
I blinked. “We have no intention of deceiving—”
“Of course not, of course not.” She straightened the large ruby pendant hanging from a golden chain around her neck. “What a pity you have to go so far away, but I suppose no one here would take you now. Oh, there’s my husband! Isn’t he handsome in his new necktie?” She waved a gloved hand. “I must rejoin him, but make sure to stop by and see me at dinner.” With another squeeze to my arm, she was off.
Was this how everyone viewed the engagement? That I was fortunate anyone would take me at all? Removing a handkerchief from my reticule, I dabbed a bead of sweat from my forehead.
Every conversation tracked a similar pattern.
Young ladies approached me as though we were friends, as though they cared I was about to sail across the Toan Sea, followed by a flippant comment about the duke or my two engagements, then flouncing off in a manner that indicated they were all too happy to leave my side, thrilled to have something to hold over me.
My store of smiles and polite conversation had worn thin by the time we were ushered into the dining hall. At least there I would be placed between Papa and Sophia.
A small salad of intertwining green and purple leaves sat at my table setting, arranged on a fine china plate. On the edge lay three slices of marshmelon.
Mist dampened my eyes. My favorite.
What would I be eating in Delunia? Would anyone care enough to learn my preferences?
Sophia prattled about the disappointing lack of young gentleman in attendance as we took our seats. I bit back the temptation to cut her off with a sarcastic remark. I couldn’t let careless words cause us to part on bad terms.
I kept my eyes on my plate, avoiding the range of curious to disdainful gazes from the gathered aristocracy. Only three courses left, then I’ll never have to see any of them again.
I started at the surprising sense of release that accompanied such a thought. For the first time, I allowed the possibility to trickle through my mind—maybe my leaving for Delunia truly was for the best.
Papa stood, clinking his spoon against his goblet to get everyone’s attention. The ensuing silence hummed with anticipation. I adjusted my posture, lifting my shoulders as though a puppeteer tugged at an imaginary string above my head. No tears or scowls or uncertainty. Only refinement, poise, grace.
He gave a standard welcome and words of thanks. I stared at a point just beyond the crowd, shifting my gaze to each corner on occasion, a practiced smile glued in place.
“. . . with our new ally across the sea. The strengthened partnership between our countries will increase our peace and prosperity for generations to come.”
Papa’s chest puffed out as it always did in preparation for the conclusion of a speech.
“In this, we do not lose a princess but rather gain a future empress. An empire! And so we send Princess Penelope forth with our gratitude and the blessings of the Luminate, our ambassador and pioneer as we forge ahead into a new era.”
He motioned for me to stand.
I flattened my palms on the table in case my trembling legs wouldn’t support me. For a fleeting moment, I almost believed him. I could accomplish so much good for our people, establish a strong, beneficial relationship between our nations. The decadent scents, lavish decorations, and clamorous cheers all buoyed my spirits.
Then my eyes landed on the taunting gaze of a stately woman. Nearby, a father glared cold indifference, his daughter’s lips curved into a mocking smirk.
Sweat dribbled down the back of my neck as a cold wave of familiarity crashed over me, dousing the flicker of hope.
King Frederick had given just such a speech when announcing my betrothal to Prince Raphael.
Two countries’ hopes had ridden on the success of that marriage, while I’d merely played the part, acting as a dutiful fiancée to Raphael until Nicholas could bring his plans to fruition.
No wonder none of these people believed I would succeed. They might clap to appease Papa, but every last one of them knew the truth of my situation: I was a traitor being sent as far away as possible, not a heroine.
I’d never been so eager to board a ship and cross the sea in my life.
Chapter 3
“M’lady?”
I blinked, catching Victoria’s concerned gaze behind me in the vanity mirror. “I apologize. I must’ve been lost in my own thoughts.”
The days following the banquet were passing in a nauseating push and pull of painfully slow and disorientingly fast. I couldn’t wait to separate myself from the gossips, those who crowed over my demise while smiling to my face.
But to launch myself into the unknown, to leave my family and everything that was familiar and beloved . . .
“Nothin’ to apologize for.” Victoria paused in her efforts to wrangle a wayward curl and patted my shoulder. “I was merely askin’ about yer trunks. We’re bringin’ along all yer jewels and personal effects, o’ course.”
I tried not to wince. Items had been disappearing from my chambers for days as Victoria and other palace staff tucked my life away into a series of flat-topped trunks, as though my identity were fading away, piece by piece.
What portions of it would still be intact by the time we reached Delunia?
“But I wasn’t certain how many of yer gowns ye’d like to bring along.” Victoria scratched at her chin. “Ye’ll likely get a new wardrobe in Delunia, since their styles’re so different.”
She bounced on her toes, as though the prospect was pleasant rather than off-putting.
“But o’ course ye’ll need somethin’ for the journey, and enough gowns to get you started until—”
“I want them all.”
She started. The words had come out more harshly than I intended. “All?”
“Yes.” Let them think I’m vain or self-important. My desire to impress the Delunian royal family wasn’t nearly strong enough to overcome my nostalgia. “Even if they don’t get much use, they’re the dresses I’ve worn to balls and dinners and . . . they hold many memories.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes softening. “O’ course.”
“Besides, they won’t be of much use to anyone here.”
My lips remained parted as a thought arrested me—the envious look in Sophia’s eyes when I wore my jade-green gown. And she so loved the dress my maids in Imperia fashioned from silk the color of deep-red wine. My blue-gray taffeta would suit Vivienne’s quieter nature, and perhaps something in lavender . . .
“On second thought, I will select a few dresses to give to my sisters. But I’d like to take the rest.”
Victoria nodded. “Very good, m’lady. I’ll see it taken care of.”
“Mama? It’s me, Penelope.”
I’d spent my last three days in Trellich saying goodbye. To my beautiful dappled mare, Priseya. To the grevel tree over the river I’d climbed as a girl. To the chipped bench in a secluded corner of the gardens, surrounded by crimson bells and farendons. To the overstuffed chair in the library where I’d daydreamed of romance and adventure. To the nursery, where I’d played and fought and giggled with my sisters.
Now I knelt at Mama’s grave in the cemetery outside our palace chapel. The stone marking her final resting place loomed above, its delicate carvings pristine. Papa had spared no expense, insisting Mama’s memory receive the respect she deserved. A monument fit for a queen.
But aside from the name inscribed in scripted letters, I’d never found it to have any connection with her. The spray of lilies of the sunrise I’d set before me scented the breeze.
“I’m sure you know this already. If you’re aware of anything now, you probably know everything . . .”
Even after two years, I wasn’t sure how to conduct myself at Mama’s grave. It wasn’t as though she could hear me, yet to remain silent didn’t feel right either.
“What I mean to say is, I’m going to Delunia to marry the emperor’s son. Do you have any recollection of Vander? I don’t. But Papa is so eager to pursue this new alliance. You know how he can be.”
If she’d been at any of our family dinners over the past month, she would’ve directed an exasperated—but equally adoring—gaze at Papa and made a flippant remark about “your father and his politics.” Then changed the conversation to music or fashion or gardening.
A ghost of the conspiratorial grin we would’ve shared lifted the corners of my lips. “I—I’ll be an empress someday, Mama.”
Why did the words make me feel timid and weak instead of powerful?
“I know I haven’t visited in a while. A long while. But I’m leaving tomorrow, and I wanted to say goodbye. Again.”
Memories washed over me, soured by guilt. My last visit to the cemetery was before I’d left for Imperia, my head filled with dreams of Nicholas—strategies for arranging our private trysts, what I’d write in my next letter, which gown to wear when I’d see him upon my arrival in Imperia.
Since returning, I hadn’t had the heart to face her.
“Would you have sent me away?” The question floated into the void, never to be answered. “Somehow I don’t think you would, not if I didn’t want to go. And I don’t want to go. I want nothing to do with Delunia.”
At least here I could be fully honest. And yet . . . even Mama couldn’t have saved my reputation or regained any measure of respect for me in Trellich.
How disappointed she would’ve been to learn of my duplicity with Nicholas. At least I’d been spared from failing her along with the rest of my family. But had she witnessed my disgrace from whatever vantage point she had in heaven? Had she disowned me right alongside the Luminate?
Regret enveloped me in fetters so tight I could hardly breathe. “Oh, Mama, I only wanted to marry the man I loved. If only things could’ve turned out differently . . .”
I pressed my face to the ground, letting the spiny blades of grass absorb my tears. As though I could hide from such celestial scrutiny.
When my legs became numb and soreness nipped my back, I sat up. My handkerchief could dry the moisture from my face, but I’d likely need a bath to erase the grass stains. My eyes fixated on her stone. My mind stilled, my lungs inhaled deeply—anything I could do to capture this place, any remaining wisp of her essence.
“Goodbye, Mama. I love you and miss you. Always. But I’ll be gone for a long time. Possibly . . .”
I couldn’t bring myself to finish the statement aloud.
Possibly . . . forever.
I plodded into our small family dining room, noting every imperfection in the marble floor, each swirling carving along the edges of the table and chairs. Who knew if—no, I had to think of it as when—I’d ever see it again?
The rest of my family trickled in, and we ate, sadness hanging over us like a thick pall.
Only Dominick seemed undisturbed, throwing his food to the floor with reckless abandon as his poor nurse tried to convince him to behave in a series of desperate whispers and gestures. I didn’t have the heart to interfere. Papa would only remind me it was Dominick’s palace anyway; he was welcome to adorn the rugs with steamed carrots as he liked.
Better to leave on good terms with everyone.
Sophia let her spoon clink into her bowl. “I still can’t understand why you would want to step foot in Imperia again, Penelope. Won’t it be dreadfully uncomfortable to see Rachel—that is, Leah—again?”
I kept forgetting Leah had been Sophia’s lady’s maid for a time under the pseudonym Rachel. A lady’s maid no more—now a princess. Prince Raphael’s wife.
According to our messengers, the marriage had taken place only a month before. I cringed. My trip would be perfectly timed to witness the peak of their wedded bliss.
I swallowed the bite of chowder in my mouth. Erma, our head cook, had taken the initiative to make a selection of her best dishes, but her efforts had been sadly wasted on me. Every mouthful tasted like powder and churned my stomach.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be most uncomfortable to see her once more.”
“How vexed I was when she disappeared like that, with hardly a word, only to discover she’d fooled us all!” Sophia waved her goblet, threatening to spill its contents. “She had such a knack for embroidery, and my other lady’s maids had become quite fond of her, you know.”
How vexed I was to find she’d used her position as your lady’s maid to snoop through my private chambers and find my letters from Nicholas.
Which she’d then apparently posted to Prince Raphael as evidence of Nicholas’s plot to overthrow the Imperian royal family. Our engagement had ended temporarily, until Lord Lessox put Raphael, along with the king and queen, under a spell to force the marriage to go forward. If Leah hadn’t recruited a group of mystics to overpower the sorcerer . . .
I couldn’t think of her without my head swirling into a confusing mix of awe and resentment.
I focused on Sophia, swallowing a laugh at her look of consternation. “I confess I’m not looking forward to spending time with Leah—or any of them, in truth—but I do feel the visit is necessary. I had a hand in causing our alliance with Imperia to crumble, so it’s only right I be the one to repair the damage.”
Vivienne nodded solemnly. “You’re very brave, Penelope.”
Anxiety, uncertainty, trepidation—many emotions coursed through my veins, but bravery wasn’t one of them. “Prince Raphael will be surprised, of course, but he isn’t vindictive. I think he at least will be willing to see me.”
“Prince Raphael.” Sophia released a little sigh. “I’ve heard he and Leah are so deeply in love. A prince defying his parents’ wishes to court a commoner. Such a romantic story.”
I nearly choked on my bread. Romantic, indeed. If only I hadn’t been cast as the villain.
“You must pass along my regards, of course.” Papa speared a piece of buttered asparagus on his fork. “I do appreciate your efforts to salvage our trade agreement, no matter how thankless the task might be. The makings of a good diplomat.” He nodded approvingly.
“Of course, Papa.” I was so tired of political machinations, yet I was about to dive more deeply into the fray than ever.
“You know, he believes in you. We all do.” Vivienne’s soft voice was barely audible over Nicky’s victorious cry as he landed a dollop of potatoes on his nursemaid’s apron.
I leaned closer to respond, letting Sophia distract Papa’s attention with details surrounding her trip to Lower Flynn. “You’re sweet, Vivienne. But I think he’s mostly grateful he no longer has to ponder what’s to be done with me.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head, lips pressed together in a stubborn frown. “All those things he said at the banquet—he meant every word. He wouldn’t be sending you if he didn’t.”
My mouth sprang open to protest, but I let it die in my throat. I glanced to Papa, where he slid his upside-down fork over the tabletop, as though drawing a map.
Following his initial shock and disappointment at the nature of my return from Imperia, he’d loved and supported me throughout the past year, even as friends and acquaintances kept their distance. He’d stood a little straighter ever since he’d sprung the news of my betrothal on me, a posture of pride rather than defeat. Maybe she was right.
“Thank you.” I released my fork so I could squeeze her hand. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
She gave me a sad smile. “We will miss you very much, Pen.”
I studied the girl at my side. Shy, smart, just on the brink of womanhood. Would I have the opportunity to see the person she’d become? Could letters alone convey such a momentous journey?
“I will miss you too. Immensely.”
Chapter 4
Dorendyn Castle loomed ahead, ever closer as the carriage bounced us forward. Ever since I’d bid my family farewell, my mind had assumed a trance-like state. My movements were automatic, my responses succinct.
None of this could truly be happening. And if it were, I wanted no part of it.
The castle’s lighter exterior and large windows gave it a welcoming look, less regal and imposing than Glonsel Palace. No longer welcoming to me.
The invisible belt curling around my insides cinched another notch tighter. What was I going to say? I hadn’t even written a note to give them warning of my coming. I’d intended to, but every time I sat at my desk, the blank page taunted me.
Dear King Frederick and Queen Beatrice,
I know you’d prefer never to see me again, since I participated in the Duke of Brantley’s plan to murder you. You have my sincerest thanks for not throwing me in the dungeon. But I’d like to discuss our proposed trade agreement and hoped you might extend your hospitality for my last two days on the continent of Sandrin before I depart for Delunia for yet another engagement.
Hopefully (and regretfully) yours,
Princess Penelope
I mentally crumpled the imagined missive and shrank back into my seat. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t face them after everything that’d happened. If the glares and disdain had been uncomfortable in Trellich, here they’d be overpowering. Would they spare me from the dungeon a second time?
