Princess of silence, p.6
Princess of Silence, page 6
“I once had a beautiful wife.” He caressed her memory for a moment, lingered in the presence of her existence; Katherine could see it in his eyes. Matthew moved so that he was leaning back against the door. She could no longer see him, which seemed to allow his words to flow more freely. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his voice.
“Her name was Margaret, but I called her Maggie. And she was gorgeous. Green eyes—the most beautiful green eyes you can imagine. She had this way of laughing so quietly, it could hardly be detected. Similar to your laugh, actually,” he teased, “but so pleasant, like the pitter-patter of rain gently rolling off of the window. That is, if your windows have panes.” He laughed, despite his circumstances. “Oh, how I miss her. While I am here….” He paused, as if he wasn’t sure if he should actually give voice to the ideas in his head. “While I am here, I often pretend that she is back home, back in Zurconia, doing the things we loved to do together. Or working on her embroidery. She loved to embroider. Do you like to embroider?” He paused in his story, so Katherine opened her eyes and saw he’d turned to look at her. She nodded.
“Yes, I’m sure you do. You are a lady, definitely a lady.” He turned back around, facing away from her. “At any rate, Maggie was a wonderful seamstress. Whenever I’d get a rip or a tear of any sort, she’d patch it up herself. Can you imagine? The queen doing her own patchwork? Or a king bothering with patchwork for that matter. But she enjoyed it. She enjoyed taking care of me, being my wife. I was so fortunate.” He paused again, likely reflecting on all that he had lost. “So very fortunate indeed.”
He was quiet for a moment, and Katherine felt sorrow building up inside of her. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she didn’t want him to see her cry on his behalf, so she held them back.
“Well, enough of that depressing story!” he proclaimed swiveling back to face her. “What about you, Angel, do you have a husband?”
Katherine’s eyes widened, and she hesitated, not exactly sure how to answer. She glanced down at her hand again. No wedding ring, that was true. She shook her head. For the time being, she was not wed.
“A beau then?”
Again, she had to shake her head "no." After the horrendous events of the night before, she certainly could not consider Philip a beau.
“Is that so? A sweet, little fairy like you with no suitors?”
Katherine felt her cheeks redden again at the compliment, but shrugged. She couldn’t say that she didn’t have any suitors, just no husband and no beau.
“Well, then, I guess Castle Blackthorn is an even stranger place than I thought. Letting beautiful little angels flitter around the castle, unwed and unspoken for. Interesting!” A chuckle fought its way free, though it was still silent. She found herself drawn to him; his sense of humor, even under such horrific circumstances, was astounding, as was his kindness and the way he loved his wife, evident by the way he spoke of her.
“Tell me, love, do you know anything of the advance of the Arterian Army?”
All the color drained from her face. She hadn’t been expecting such a question. He’d caught her off guard. She couldn’t blame him from asking, though. Should she disclose what she knew or let him know of Caleb’s progress? While she didn’t want to give Matthew false hope, he might need to prepare for what was to come. She imagined it would go one of two ways. Either he would be rescued--or executed in advance of his brother’s arrival. In fear of the latter, Katherine decided to indicate to Matthew that she did have some information. Slowly, her head tipped back and forth
The king sighed in relief. “Wonderful. King Caleb, he’s close, isn’t he?” Again, Katherine affirmed his belief. Matthew grinned. “Any idea how far away?”
Katherine didn’t know exactly how far away the Arterians were, but she knew they’d fought through Glendor and were somewhere near the Lowetian Forest. Since Nadoria was on the western side of the kingdom, far from Arteria on Clovington’s east, she wasn’t familiar with the area, but from Philip’s reaction, she guessed they were close.
“Is Caleb advancing quickly? Is Philip anticipating his arrival at Blackthorn? Is that why he rode out so early this morning, to inspect the army?” Katherine nodded quickly with each question, trying to keep up. “What are they thinking? A week? Two weeks?” At this, Katherine shrugged. She had heard estimates of time from both Philip and Edward, but there were so many factors that could impede Caleb’s progress, she didn’t know how to answer Matthew.
“All right then.” Matthew nodded confidently. “This all seems promising. One way or another, I’ll be out of this tower soon.”
The princess imagined he’d thought of the two scenarios she’d come up with and watched his face shift as he considered both. It broke her heart to think Philip might execute him before Caleb arrived. If there was anything Katherine could do to prevent such an event from happening, she would do so.
Matthew remained quiet for a few moments, reflecting on the information he had just received. Katherine would need to leave soon. She readjusted on the floor, thinking she needed to pack up the few items she’d be taking back with her. “I apologize,” Matthew said, as if he suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone. “I shouldn’t be bombarding you with so many questions.”
Katherine hoped he could read her expression as she shook her head; it was fine. She wanted him to feel comfortable enough to ask her anything. However, as much as she was enjoying spending time with King Matthew, she knew the day grew long, and she should probably get back down to her room before Joan started looking for her or the king arrived back from his inspection. She wasn’t sure how to indicate to Matthew that she needed to go, so she began to slowly gather her things, thinking he would catch on.
“Must you take leave?” he asked, his tone indicating displeasure. “It isn’t because I asked too many questions is it?”
Again, she shook her head no. She wished she knew how to indicate it was due to the time, but no easy way of signaling that came to mind. Katherine noticed the arrows slits behind him and gestured at them with her head.
Matthew glanced over his shoulder, but she could tell by the furrow in his brow that he was lost. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.”
Trying again, she pointed at the openings and the sky. “Oh, the window, uh, arrow slit? Hmm? What could that mean?” He stroked his chin. “Are you saying that it’s getting late?” She nodded. “The king? You need to get back before you’re discovered?”
Katherine nodded along with each question, confirming what he was saying.
“I see. I understand.” He was clearly disappointed she’d be taking her leave, which made Katherine’s heart heavy, though she hated to admit it also made her a little happy to hear he’d miss her.
Matthew pressed his face up to the opening so that his brown eyes were looking intently at her face. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
Yes, of course I will, Katherine nodded.
“Good! Good.” He sat back a bit, happier, but still reluctant. “Well, thank you for coming. Thank you for listening to me and for all of your gifts. You’re truly a heaven-sent angel, my Angel.” The king slid his fingers through the slit as far as they would budge.
Katherine wasn’t sure exactly what he meant for her to do. He must be longing for human contact, gentle human contact. She lifted her hand to his and wrapped her fingers around his. As soon as their hands met, a spark of some sort seemed to electrify her skin, traveling up her arm to her heart. In that moment, she realized just how starved for affection she was herself.
She couldn’t tarry any longer, so with a sigh, she let go, gathered her belongings, and turned to leave.
Katherine had gone several steps down the stairs when shouted, “Angel, wait!”
Pausing about six steps from the top of the stairwell, Katherine felt her heart skip a beat. Swallowing hard, she turned and hurried back up the stairs. Bending down next to the slot, she waited to see what he needed.
“Do you think that knife will fit through the slot?” he asked.
Puzzled, Katherine dug through the basket for the little knife she had used to cut open the stem. The blade was small and thin, but the handle was a little thicker. Still, she thought it might go through with a little coaxing. She stuck the blade through first, and it went easily enough. Then, she wiggled the handle back and forth. If it had been against the wood, it would have been easier, but the metal frame was holding it up. Finally, after several seconds of pushing and prying, she was able to get it to slide through.
“Yes!” Matthew proclaimed, catching it by the handle before it hit the ground. “Oh, thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this!”
Katherine wondered what in the world he intended to do with the knife and hoped he wasn’t planning to stab Edward and make an escape. He would never make it out of the castle alive. Since she had no way of asking him, and she was genuinely starting to worry about the time, she descended the stairs once more, glancing back over her shoulder to see Matthew’s smiling eyes peering through the slot, watching her walk away. For the first time in a long time, Katherine had a reason to smile.
Chapter 8
King Caleb of Arteria was contemplating a difficult situation. Standing on the balcony next to his bedchambers, he looked out over the courtyard of Castle Caine and considered his choices.
As much as he wanted to stay at the castle and continue to receive updates from the physician, he really needed to get back to the front lines. Caleb had always preferred to be in the thick of it with his troops, even though his advisors and other leaders forbid him from actually participating in battles. Occasionally, he’d find a way into the fray. At the very least, being close by allowed him to see firsthand what was happening with his army and direct their attacks himself. He had created a well-oiled machine, one capable of destroying any enemy, and it was just a matter of time before Clovington fell--whether Caleb was with his army or not. Being there with his troops would ensure no time was wasted, giving him a better chance of reaching his brother before Philip took actions he and his men would quickly regret.
The possibility of Philip executing Matthew in order to anger Caleb was real. Caleb constantly reassured himself that even Philip was not so foolish. Yet, there was a nagging voice inside of his head that made him take the threat seriously. Philip had invaded Zurconia on a whim, pushed along by the unreasonable chatter of his insane, power-hungry uncle, hell-bent on gaining vengeance for a brother long dead. Who was to say Philip wouldn’t act so unreasonably again?
Caleb ran a hand through his light-brown hair, watching a pair of doves flitter around the garden as he contemplated his next move. Staying at the castle would allow him to know firsthand what was happening with his guest. Surely, he could trust his commanders to handle the situation in Clovington.
Just when he had determined he would stay, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see his most trusted advisor and highest ranking officer, David Smythe, crossing the room, his steps lively, as if he was on a mission,
“Good morning, Caleb.” There was no need for formality here. David, who was a few years older than Caleb, had been by the king’s side since Caleb had become old enough to walk. When his father had died, and Caleb had ascended to the throne at fifteen, David had been there. When Matthew, Caleb’s shadow and greatest confidant, had left Arteria to marry, David had filled that void. And when the Clovington forces breached the Zurconian line, infiltrating Castle Ringley, whisking Matthew away, David had been the first to say the battle was on.
“David.” Caleb nodded, turning to face him while rubbing his eyes. The cup of spiced cider in his hand had clearly done nothing to wake him up after the few hours of sleep he had gotten, though he would never complain considering the reason for his interrupted slumber. “What’s the word?”
David was lanky for a soldier. Several inches taller than Caleb, who was also above average in height, and not nearly as muscular as his commander, he did not appear to be of much use on the battlefield. But looks could be deceiving, and David certainly knew how to handle any weapon he chose to use. “You may need to go to the front after all. Our scouts have reported fortifications being built on the hills just west of the Lowetian Forest. It seems Philip is attempting to use the heavy trees as cover and force us through the thickest, swampiest portions so that our progress is impeded.”
Caleb sighed, leaning back against the railing and taking a sip from his mug. Caroline was not going to be happy if he decided to go. Yet, he needed to make sure his army wasted no time in achieving its goal. If there were a better way around the obstacles Philip was creating, perhaps he would be able to see it more clearly than his scouts and other commanding officers. He had always had a gift for seeing the movement of armies, the path of least resistance, the weaknesses in the opposition. Even when his opponent was just Matthew with faux swords, clanking around the ballroom, much to his late mother’s chagrin, Caleb could anticipate the next blow, visualize it, as if it was already taking place. “Very well,” he said, reluctantly. “I’ll ride back out with you in a few hours. It’s time to end this, once and for all.”
David nodded in agreement. “I’ll make the necessary preparations. “ He turned to go but paused and turned back to face the king. “However, you’ll have to tell Caroline yourself.”
“Damn,” Caleb muttered, shaking his head and turning his back on his friend. The view of the splendid garden below him was suddenly ruined by the vision of an angry old woman chasing him with a rolling pin. He would rather face any opponent on the battlefield than face that woman when she was angry.
Philip sat at the dining table alongside his good friend and trusted officer, Charles Williams, and a few of his other advisors, stabbing at his meat and jabbing it into his mouth in a fury. When he had sent for the princess to join him, that obnoxious lady-in-waiting had explained that Katherine was not feeling well, and his servant had come back empty-handed. Since Philip was in a foul mood, having had little patience with his generals as he rode through what looked more like children playing with blocks than grown men building a barrier against an invading army, he was in no mood to beg for her attendance.
He imagined her absence was truly his fault after the way he’d acted the night before. It was a little embarrassing that he had lost his temper. However, he had also been extremely angry that his future bride had refused him. A grin formed on his face as he thought of what would transpire on Sunday night when he would have the opportunity to teach her a thing or two about denying him. He was quite sure it would never happen again. In the meantime, he would have to make do with Rose, or perhaps one of the chambermaids, if he found one he could stomach.
There was one positive to being so close to the front lines of defense. He could ride out and check on his army yet still spend the night in his own bed. But that meant mornings like the one he’d had today when he’d risen before the sun. Still, it beat the alternative, a night spent in a makeshift tent amongst the rapscallions he called his troops. He had heard of some kings who preferred to lead their armies in person. Warrior kings. Kings who, in his opinion, didn’t know how to delegate. He imagined that, if and when the Arterian Army came pouring through the doors of his castle, King Caleb would be front and center. What he wouldn’t give to have the opportunity to run him through himself--with the same sword he would’ve just used to slit his brother’s throat. Ah, daydreams.
What was unsettling, however, was the view of the encampments he was able to gain from atop a ridge just west of where his men were making a lot of noise with various tools, allegedly building a wall and digging trenches. The Arterian Army was in plain view, a stone’s throw away. Perhaps a throw from a large catapult, but a stone’s throw nonetheless. “Shite!” he spat aloud, gaining unsettled glances from the other diners. He ignored them. They were running out of time, out of resources, out of everything. Even if they managed to toss up some sort of barricade, Caleb and his men would just step over it and keep right on coming. It was plain to see that this plan was simply not going to work. Right now, the only thing keeping the Arterians out of Blackthorn was the Lowetian Forest, and they would find a way through that eventually. With nothing more to say on the matter, Philip finished his dinner and went to bed. It would be an early morning again the next day. Hopefully, his troops would’ve made some progress during the night, though he doubted it. Time continued to dwindle.
At daybreak, Philip was in the saddle, alongside Charles and some of his other men. A restless night spent with a woman whose name he did not know had done little to change his disposition, and even the orange and pinks of the sky did not lighten his mood. He prayed his men would surprise him with better fortifications.
As they pulled their horses to a stop atop the same ridge he’d used to view the enemy the day before, Philip let go a string of curse words darker than his future. Nothing much seemed to have changed from the day before. Only one more trench and a half-assembled section of wall had been added. Even with him watching, it seemed only a few dozen men were working while the others appeared to be frolicking in the clearing behind him. In the distance, the Arterian forces were larger—and closer. Frustrated, Philip swore again and slammed his hand down into the saddle horn, not even feeling the sting through his anger.
Charles was at Philip’s side, his keen eye assessing the situation in the same way as his leader. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his restless horse snorting as if to say it was ready to charge.
Philip’s stomach churned. He had seen enough. He gave his stallion a kick and preceded down the other side of the incline, Charles and the rest of his party following close behind. “What do I want to do?” he asked after a moment of contemplation. “I want to find a way to sneak around his flank, cut him off from his supply line, and annihilate every damn one of those bastards!” That, that would be perfection. Watching Caleb and each of his trumped-up warriors die agonizing deaths. If only there was a way to do that.
