Myra sat by her parents in the dining hall, eating breakfast and watching the room full of men. A couple kept to themselves, but most had formed into lively small groups, probably talking about plans for the summit discussions. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of an oddly familiar grouping. Dark Soren sat calmly smiling beside the shining Owain, while across the table the little Fawx laughed.
Fawx winked when he caught her staring. He tossed an apple and flipped out a knife. Owain’s arm snaked across the table and snatched the knife from the air. He stabbed the apple, pulled it off, then slammed the knife down in front of Fawx. She hadn’t realized how close they were to her until she heard Owain’s scolding words.
“This is not the time for showing off.”
“He’s correct. There will be plenty of time for that later,” Soren added.
“A fair time, when all of us have the chance to flaunt ourselves.” Owain grinned and bit into his stolen apple.
Frowning, Myra turned to her parents. But before she could ask them anything, they stood up. She cracked her jaw and breathed out through her nose.
“First off, we’d like to thank you all for joining us in surprising our daughter. As parents, we can’t express our gratitude at your indulgence deeply enough,” her father began.
Myra’s heartbeat quickened. Surprise?
Her mother smiled. “We also hope that the next few days will be filled with fun for everyone as we celebrate Myra’s birthday together.”
Myra’s court smile faded as iron claws squeezed her chest. What the heck is going on?
Her father continued, “Finish up your breakfasts. Soon we’ll begin our activity for the day: your short personal presentations. You’ll each have five minutes to show your best selves.”
Myra stood, slamming her hands on the table. “What on earth are you talking about? Doesn’t the summit start today? Isn’t that why everyone came?”
Her mother tried to caress her arm, but she flinched away. “No, darling. They came for you. You gave up searching for your perfect prince, so your father and I gathered all these wonderful young gentlemen together for you. If you can’t find him here, he probably doesn’t exist.”
Myra spluttered, pointing in succession. “You . . . they . . . me? Here?”
Her father put his arm around her mother and scratched his graying beard. “Well, my dear, we’re not getting any younger, you see. And you had given up. We just wanted to help a little.”
“That’s right, darling. Now, where’s your smile? You may as well enjoy yourself since they’re already here.”
Fury boiled out in an inarticulate yell. Myra spun around and stormed out. Seething, she headed to the sheep field. She needed the wooly comfort of her outdoor sanctuary. She climbed over the wooden fence, grateful to be wearing her favored trousers. Face buried in the nearest sheep, she scolded Ronan when he approached her.
“Go away! You know you’re not supposed to disturb me when I’m here.” She’d mistaken him for a shepherd.
“I’m sorry, Myra. I didn’t know.”
She looked up at her name, cheeks hot. “Oh. It’s you.”
He nodded and pet the sheep. She sighed loudly several times. He continued patting the sheep. She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. The low bleating of the sheep filled the silence.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” Ronan asked.
She sneered. “There are a large number of extremely impolite things I’d love to say, but I suppose the most pressing question I have is: why are you here?”
“In Wellington?”
She snorted and muttered to herself, “No, I know why you’re in Wellington. I know why you’re all in Wellington.” She looked up at him and braced herself. “Why are you out here wandering around, instead of preparing for your presentation?”
“I heard the sheep from my bedroom and came out to find them.” He sat cross-legged on the grass. “I don’t have a presentation to prepare for. I’m on vacation.” He stuck his hands behind his head and laid down.
Myra’s eye twitched and she massaged her forehead. “Aren’t you a part of my parents’ scheme like everyone else?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“But you showed up on the same day.”
“I’m terribly sorry about that. It was never my intention to come here.” Ronan yawned. “Pardon me. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Oh? Were you still cold from the storm-drenching?”
He shook his head. “The blankets and tea warmed me well.”
“Then what was the problem?”
He smiled. It was the first time he’d done so, but she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. He’d just revealed a set of hidden dimples.
“It’s nothing worth mentioning.”
She plopped on the ground beside him. “I’ll tell you my troubles, if you tell me yours.”
Her efforts were rewarded with laughter.
He rolled onto his side, facing her, head propped on his hand. “I’m really not one to complain of trivial matters, Myra.”
“Please? I’d love to tackle a solvable problem right now.”
He was silent for a moment. “Do you have an unsolvable one?”
She nodded.
“I don’t believe in the unsolvable. Tell me your problem. We’ll find a solution together.”
She pulled at the grass. “My parents ambushed me this morning in front of everyone. Didn’t you see it?”
He shook his head. “When did this happen?”
“At breakfast.”
“In the dining hall?” He paused for her confirmation. “I ate in my room and came here when I finished.”
She put her chin in her hand and sighed. “I thought we were preparing for a summit, but it turns out that my parents were gathering all the eligible young noblemen to help me find a husband instead.”
“Do you not want to find a husband?”
“It’s not that, it’s. . .” She stood and stalked over to the nearest sheep, fists clenched. “They’ve turned it into a spectacle. A, a game. And made me the center of it.” She slumped across the sheep’s back. “Besides, how could I possibly find the kind of man I’m looking for in a few days, when I couldn’t find him after years of searching?”
“Is that your unsolvable problem?” Ronan asked quietly from his place on the ground.
Myra scratched her head and mumbled, “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t see any way to get out of this mess my parents created. Not now that everyone’s arrived. I’ll be forced to play along.” She thumped her head down on the sheep and scratched its neck.
He sat up and tapped his knee. “I can be your inside man, if you’d like. Help you gather information and assess the candidates.”
She whipped around. “You’d do that? But, don’t you have other plans?”
He shrugged. “A trip to the seaside forced by my advisors.” He tipped his head to the side and smiled. “I’d rather stay and help a friend.”
She smiled in return. “Wait.” Her brows furrowed, thinking over maps. “If you were headed to the seaside, how did you end up here? And on foot?”
The bell tolled and Myra cringed. Her lower lip trembled as she patted the sheep goodbye. Ronan followed her out of the pen, walking with her back inside.
He explained, “Shortly after the storm began, we came across a mother and her four children at the crossroads. I offered them a ride to the nearest town, which happened to be Wellington. After a hot meal, we found that there was only one vacant room. I let them have it. When the innkeeper learned who I was, he sent me here.”
“You walked all the way from town in such a storm?”
He looked at her, gaze steady. “My men and the horses were settled for the night.”
They walked in silence for a time as Myra contemplated the man beside her. A man who seemed to treat everyone with the same level of care and compassion, be they strangers on the roadside, his own subordinates, or new-met peers. It was a rare find if it turned out to be true.
“Won’t your men worry about you?”
He shook his head. “I left word of my whereabouts with the innkeeper. They’ll be coming to collect me soon.”
“Oh. I thought you had decided to stay.” She stared at the gravel walkway.
He stopped. “I’d like to, Myra, but you never accepted my offer of help.”
Her eyes lit up as she realized he was returning her power of choice. “Thank you, Ronan. I’d like your help, please, if you don’t mind changing your plans.”
She smiled. He smiled back, dimples showing, and nodded. They resumed walking.
“Now, then. I believe you had a minor problem last night?” she prodded.
He laughed. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No. You helped me. It’s my turn.”
He sighed. “It’s really nothing. It’s just,” he looked at her sheepishly, “no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable on that bed. It’s lumpy and hard.” He scratched the side of his nose and finished with a mumble, “It felt like I was sleeping on a bed of rocks.”
The princess bit back her laughter. “I’ll be sure to pass the word along.”
*****
After a mind-numbing day of inane presentations in which grown men strutted around like peacocks, Myra was thrilled for a moment alone with her mother. Until she learned about the hidden test her mother had prepared for the suitors. It took all her self-control not to snap.
Voice toneless, she prodded, “What do you mean you put pea gravel under all the mattresses?”
“It’s an old family legend, darling. Tradition that’s been passed on for generations. A test for a true prince or princess,” the queen answered, all smiles.
Myra ground her jaw. “I don’t understand.”
Her mother patted her shoulder. “You place a pea under twenty mattresses. Only a true prince or princess can feel it.” She grinned. “I substituted with pea gravel and put my own twist on the twenty mattresses. Since we have so many princes to choose from.”
Myra spluttered. “You put rocks in their beds, and you think they won’t be able to tell?”
Her mother nodded vigorously. “Definitely. There were only four who felt them last night, so tonight, I’ve removed some of the gravel and changed to thicker mattresses. We’ll see how the four feel in the morning.”
Her mother stared at her, nose crinkled and eyes sparkling. Frustration burning her chest, Myra spun on her heel and left before she would say something hurtful.
Comments (0)
See all