The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(14)

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked. Three pairs of eyes glared at her.

“You must get that evil woman out of your house,” Rachel supplied. Her bitter tone matched the bouncing of her knee.

“I don’t have the power to do so,” Ellie said.

Rachel stood, hands on hips. “Dame Lange will take an instant hatred to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She tugged at a knot in her gown. “The way my step-family treats me, she will never realize we are related.”

Her self-deprecating laugh was met with more glares.

“We do not know the woman. I am not planning a war with a lady who could simply be misunderstood.” Ellie snagged a scone and munched on the sweet treat. Her necklace, now alight, hummed in the shadow of her breasts, out of sight but offering a comforting warmth.

Rachel cocked a brown brow, her pixie features in staunch disbelief. “I doubt she is misunderstood. But, she is staying in the castle for at least tomorrow night, after the reception. If you work the event with me, it will give you a chance to form a true opinion of her.”

“Brilliant! I’ll swing by the castle and double-check with the head housekeeper. I’m sure they’re still taking servers.” Ellie smiled at Rachel.

“Don’t worry about it. I have to drop off some new linens on my way home tonight. I’ll ask for you. Actually, I should be heading out anyway.” Rachel stood and brushed crumbs from her skirt.

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She and Meera waved goodbye as Rachel ducked out of the back entrance and into a splatter of rain. Ellie stood to leave.

“Stay for one more cup. The rain looks like it will cease soon.” Meera patted her shoulder and forced another scone into her hands.





Chapter Four



Gerard rolled his shoulders and stretched his stiff neck.

“Ah, glad you’re awake, sire.” Edward strolled into the room, seeming to not care that Gerard still lay abed. Unclothed.

“Toss me a pair of pants, will you?” He motioned to the heap of clothes in the corner. He’d never been one for tidiness and hated having strangers put away his things. To his mother’s dismay, he’d refused to let servants into his room. With a wife sharing his chambers in a fortnight—when the tournament was over—he should let a few maids clean.

“When did you go to bed?” Edward threw him a pair of trews. He caught them in one hand and dressed under the covers.

“Not long after midnight. Why?” He stood, his muscles stiff. He’d sat in his outbuilding, poring over the astronomer’s specifications, keeping an eye out the open door. Searching to see if Ellie wandered past.

He saw her as the Citadel bells chimed ten. The rain pounding, he’d squinted to see her in the darkness. A shimmering slit of light peeked out from her bosom. The necklace, he’d never known anything like it.

The first time he’d seen her, she’d been traipsing through the castle at the crack of dawn as he’d been off to bed. The second, roving the forest’s edge. And the third, leaving the Citadel in the gloom of evening.

Where did she live? What did she do? Who was she?

“Your mother has requested your presence in the royal dining hall. Luncheon is served,” Edward said.

“Help me clean my room tomorrow?”

“No. You’ve made the mess.” Edward nodded, mouth curved in a smug grin, and left Gerard to his clothes-strewn chamber.

He took ten minutes to find a clean tunic, presentable enough for semi-formal occasions. He pounded down the royal wing and brushed past a few maids busy airing out empty chambers. There’d be many noble guests in the castle tonight.

He found his mother, the picture of grace and elegance, conferring with an unknown woman to her right. He paused in the doorway, taking in the stranger’s outfit.

She wore a silk gown, an awful shade of fuchsia, the fabric tugging at her portly figure. Beady eyes, so small he couldn’t make out the color, speared the queen with a desperate zeal. Unease fisted his belly, chasing away hunger. A bushy hat—were those fake birds?—sat at an awkward angle on her graying mousy brown curls.

Her squeaky voice snared his attention.

“As you know, any of my five daughters would love to sit by Gerard’s side at the reception tonight. They’re quite the eloquent conversationalists.”

“Dame Lange, I’m sure you understand that it is unwise of us to pick favorites this early in the Tournament. I’m certain your young girls will understand the need for impartiality,” the queen supplied. She picked up her teacup and braced it in her palms.

He recognized the pose. His mother didn’t like what Dame Lange had to say but was too graceful to reprimand the other woman.

Dame Lange leaned toward his mother. “My girls are pretty little ladies, I assure you. They’d make a lovely complement to the prince’s striking frame.”

He cleared his throat. Both women glanced over. His mother, with a weary smile, but Dame Lange gifted him with a feral grin.

“Ladies, good day.” He bowed, deep. When he came back up, his mother was rolling her eyes. She knew the deeper he dropped in a formal bow, the more he was making a mockery of the other person.

“Come sit, Your Highness.” Dame Lange patted the seat next to her. He ignored the move and sat next to his mother.