The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(30)

“The merchant’s son ignores her until one day when she saves his life from bandits who try to rob him.”

“And that causes him to fall in love with her?”

“No, not quite yet. He still thinks she is too poor to marry him. But when he sees how she sacrifices herself to save a young child from being trampled by a horse, she is injured, and he marries her as soon as she is able to walk again.” Avelina shrugged. “I suppose it is foolish to write such stories.”

“It sounds like a good story.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him. “I am sure you have spent your time doing much more worthy things besides writing stories.”

“I have spent my life either preparing for battle or fighting. I am not sure if those were worthy pursuits or not, now that all my training is for naught. Even if I had not suffered this injury . . . I am a margrave now.”

“What battles have you fought?”

“Not long after I turned sixteen, I was sent to fight during the siege of Castle Rotherholm. Then I was sent to defend the border by the Duke of Pomerania, who made me the captain of his guard.” His jaw twitched and he glanced down at the roast pheasant a squire had placed on the table before them. He cut a large chunk from it, then placed it on her trencher. Then he cut himself a piece.

She ignored her food. “Did you enjoy your life of fighting?”

He shrugged. “I did what needed to be done. Fighting feels like a duty, not a chore, which I suppose is what keeps us from hating it. We defend the innocent, our allies, and each other.”

She nodded. “Of course.” She should not be talking so much with the margrave. She should draw Magdalen into the conversation. But she could not think how.

“Forgive me for not thinking of it before, but I will have some paper and a quill and ink sent to your chamber. You may want to write something while you are here.”

“That is very thoughtful. I thank you.”

“And you may borrow another book from the library whenever you wish.”

Why was he paying so much attention to her? But he was only being a good host. He would speak this way to any of the other ladies, were they sitting beside him. But when he looked her in the eye and spoke quietly to her and only her, it filled an empty place inside her, and even made her eyes misty. It made her believe that she was just as worthy as a wealthy daughter of a nobleman.

Or perhaps she was only allowing herself to believe the pretense. Either way, she wanted to enjoy the feeling Lord Thornbeck’s attention gave her, this warmth and sense of importance. Dangerous though it was.

She pulled Magdalen into the conversation as often as she could during the rest of the long meal. Sometimes the conversation went on between the four of them, including the Duke of Wolfberg, but then it would inevitably end with the duke talking to Magdalen and Avelina talking with Lord Thornbeck. But that was only because she was nearer to the margrave and the other guests were so loud.

When the final dishes of sweets had been served and consumed, concluding with an enormous subtlety made in the shape of a peacock, with candied fruits and nuts simulating its feathers, Lord Thornbeck announced the end of the ball and the night’s festivities.

He fixed his gaze on Avelina. “I hope you enjoyed the ball, as you did dance twice, at least.”

“I did.” Avelina smiled and drew Magdalen forward so he could speak to her as well. “I thank you all,” she nodded at the Duke of Wolfberg and Lady Magdalen, “for talking with me at the ball and not allowing me to stand alone and without a friend. Lady Magdalen is so kind.”

“Lady Dorothea is the kind one.”

“Oh no, I did nothing! You are the one—” But she was cut off before she could enumerate more of her friend’s excellent character traits.

Lady Fronicka strode forward. “Lord Thornbeck, I—”

“I trust you enjoyed the ball, Lady Fronicka, and I bid you a good night.” He bowed to her, turned, and strode away.





12



AVELINA AWOKE TO someone knocking at her door. Sunlight streamed through the edges of the shutters on the windows. She leapt out of bed and hurried to drag the heavy trunk away so she could open the door. When she had pulled it far enough to open the door a foot, she peered out at Frau Schwitzer standing in the corridor.

“Lord Thornbeck sent you these.” She held out a portable desk—a wooden box with a slanted lid. “You will find paper, ink, and a quill inside.”

“Thank you, Frau Schwitzer.” Avelina took the box, tilting it sideways to get it through the doorway, and started to close the door.

“Lady Dorothea?”

“Ja?”

“Is something amiss?”

“No, all is well. Thank you.” She closed the door on the servant’s puzzled expression. She didn’t bother to push the trunk either against the door or back where she had found it but walked over to the window seat and placed the wooden box on the cushion.

The heavy chair still stood against the door that connected Avelina’s bedchamber to the small room where Irma slept. She stepped to her bed and threw the covers all the way back. No spiders or snakes anywhere to be seen.

Avelina sighed and lay across the bed.

Today was only her fourth day here. Ten more to go. She sighed again. But it wasn’t all bad. She closed her eyes and relived her terror when Lord Thornbeck pulled her aside and asked if she was with child and in love with a knight. But squeezing her eyes tighter, she concentrated not on her fear but on his expression . . . his eyes . . . his lips . . . his dark brows and the way his dark hair hung over his forehead. She remembered his voice, the words he had spoken to her, and her stomach did that strange flip it often did when she thought about the margrave.