Violet Eyes, Page 3

  “So, the rumors are true. There is a competition.”

  “Yes, I guess you could call it that. I call it abominable.”

  “You are a prince, though. Shouldn’t the choice of a bride be yours?”

  Richard laughed harshly at that. “My dear, it is because I am a prince that I can make fewer choices than a common man, fewer choices than you will have when the time comes. For princes and princesses marriage isn’t about love or companionship or even family. It is about kingdoms and treaties and wars and alliances. My parents understand that. The rulers of the other kingdoms understand that.”

  “But Cambria is a powerful country. We don’t need an alliance with another country.”

  “Of course we do. Other countries know how powerful we are. Some fear us, some admire us, but they’re all eager to be our friends. Even the king of Lore will be sending his daughter here.”

  Violet paused. “But why would your parents ever consider an alliance with Lore? They attacked our country in the last war, and we crushed them.”

  “Yes, but that defeat was more than fifteen years ago. They have been rebuilding, and their army is larger and better equipped than ever.”

  “But Lorians are treacherous,” Violet protested, eyes blazing.

  “As my parents well know. They only took the throne when the former king and queen of Cambria were assassinated in their own castle. Assassinated by the king of Lore.”

  Violet paused, as if thinking that through. “I didn’t know that,” she said at last. “The Lorians’ treachery is even deeper than I had imagined.”

  Richard nodded. “Yes. My parents were nobles, but that was all. The entire royal family of Cambria was murdered within an hour. My parents were the highest ranking nobles alive, and they took the throne. The outrage against the atrocity was what helped us win the war. The people of Cambria can fight like lions when wronged.” He hid a smile, thinking of how she, a commoner, had nearly struck a prince who had insulted her. The spirit of Cambria was alive and well in her.

  Violet pressed her hand to her forehead. “I hope you do not marry the princess of Lore. I think it would be a disgrace.”

  He sighed. “It would ensure peace. If I marry someone else, there is the real possibility that we shall be at war with Lore again in our lifetimes. Of course, that’s true of at least half a dozen other kingdoms as well. Sometimes I think, rather than allowing me to choose a bride and risk an affront to some kingdom, my parents devised this ridiculous challenge to find the most sensitive princess.”

  Violet shook her head. “Well, I wish you happiness with your future bride, whomever she may be.”

  “Thank you,” Richard replied. His head had begun to pound, and he closed his eyes once more. Within moments he was asleep.

  Violet kept a watchful eye on Prince Richard as she went about her chores. He was sleeping fitfully, and occasionally he cried out. She found herself pitying him. To have so much power and yet be so powerless must be terrible! It baffled her, and she prayed that his parents might choose a wife whom he could love.

  Father Paul arrived just before dinner, and when William escorted him inside, the priest’s eyes widened upon seeing the figure of the prince.

  “Thomas didn’t tell me the patient was Prince Richard!” he exclaimed.

  “We didn’t know until after he had left to fetch you,” William explained.

  Violet helped her mother prepare dinner as Father Paul examined Richard. The prince was groggy when he awoke and seemed less clear-headed than earlier. His eyes were bright, and his cheeks were stained red.

  “The wound looks good; you did a fine job of tending to it,” Father Paul told Sarah. To William he added, “He seems to be getting the onset of a fever, though.”

  “I was afraid of that. He was out in that storm last night,” William said.

  “The best thing to do is make sure he has plenty of liquids and to keep him warm. I’ll be back to check on him in the morning.”

  Sarah began to cough and moved off to a corner. Violet stared after her mother in concern. The coughing fit lasted longer than usual, and each cough seemed to shake her body like a leaf in a storm.

  “Sarah, what ails you, woman?” Father Paul asked.

  “I’m fine, Father,” she answered, eyes watering.

  He narrowed his eyes. Before he could say anything, though, Richard spoke.

  “Father?”

  “Yes?” Paul asked, turning his whole attention back to his patient.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone that I am here. This is not exactly the homecoming I had in mind,” Richard muttered.

  “You just rest easy, son. We’ll all keep your secret as long as we can,” the kindly priest assured him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  That night Prince Richard got worse. They did their best to keep him warm, and Violet bathed his face every half hour with a cool cloth. The fever was high, though, and he was muttering in a haze, clearly not even sure where he was. She dozed fitfully, sitting in the chair next to the bed.

  In the morning, when Father Paul returned, he took one look at Richard, and the worry on his face sent a bolt of fear through Violet.

  Leaving Richard in the care of the priest and her mother, Violet went to the barn to feed the horses. She was tired, and the cool air helped clear her head. Mostly, though, she needed a reprieve from the watching and waiting. Both Bessie and Baron greeted her expectantly.

  “Sorry, I don’t have any apples today,” she said as she forked hay into their troughs. When she was finished, she leaned against Baron’s stall. “He’s not doing so well. Father Paul’s looking after him, though. He’s good at doctoring, Father Paul. He’ll fix him, you’ll see.”

  “Violet?”

  She turned and saw Thomas entering the barn. “What is it?”

  “Your father wants you back at the house.”

  She pushed off from the stall and followed Thomas back to the house in silence. Her heart sank when she saw her father waiting for her. His face was pale.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Father Paul said that as long as the fever breaks soon, Prince Richard should be all right. He says, though, that we have to watch in case his temperature drops too low. We’d have to bring it up then.”

  Violet nodded, but she could tell there was more. She waited, and finally her father continued.

  “Your mother, she had one of her coughing spells again. She coughed up some blood. Father Paul has restricted her to her bed, and he’s looking after her. You’ll have to take over caring for the prince until Father Paul can make your mother well.”

  Violet was both frightened and relieved. It scared her that her mother’s coughing was getting worse, and that now there was blood. But she was hopeful that Father Paul could heal her. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will, Daughter. You’ve always been a good girl.”

  The rest of the day Violet felt as though she were moving through a fog. She prepared simple meals of bread and cheese for herself, Thomas, and her father, but neither of the patients would take any food. She did some mending while watching her mother and Richard. Occasionally her father or Thomas would come in from the fields and allow Violet a few minutes to walk outside and stretch her legs.

  When night at last came, Violet slept on a crude mattress on the floor while her father took the first turn sitting up and watching. She could hear her mother cough from time to time, but for the most part Violet managed to sleep. She didn’t know what time it was when her father shook her shoulder, but Violet sat up, instantly awake.

  “Your mother is sleeping just fine. The prince’s fever has broken, but now he’s cold as ice. Help me get him warm.”

  Violet nodded and took the blankets from her mattress and grabbed the extra ones that they stored in a trunk for the occasional guest or really cold weather. Together Violet and her father tucked the blankets around the prince, who was cool to the touch and shaking. He awoke groggily
. “I’m so cold,” he whispered.

  Violet hurried to heat some broth for him and then held the bowl, helping him drink from it. William added more wood to the fire until it was a large, crackling blaze. In the light from the hearth Violet could see how tired he was. William’s eyes drooped, and he swayed slightly on his feet.

  “Your turn to get some sleep, Father. I’ll watch him.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Yes.”

  He hesitated for a moment before giving in. “Good, try to get him warm. Wake me if he gets worse or you need anything.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Violet watched as her father went and lay down gently next to her mother. Sarah stirred slightly but did not waken. Within a minute Violet could tell by her father’s deep breathing that he was also asleep. Then she turned all of her attention back to Prince Richard.

  He was awake and looking at her. His eyes were clearer than they had been since the fever started. “Why am I so cold?” he asked her.

  “Father Paul said that this might happen after your fever passed. You will be all right. See, you have lots of thick, warm blankets around you, and the fire is high.”

  “So cold,” he said, closing his eyes.

  A minute passed, and the room became warmer, but Prince Richard started shaking harder. Violet laid a hand on his forehead, and it was like touching ice. She rubbed her hands hard together until they were hot and then placed them on his face, willing the warmth from her skin into his. He murmured slightly.

  A memory came to her. Once as a child she had been sick and so very cold. Her parents had put her in their bed, laying her between them with the blankets over them all. Violet remembered how the heat from their bodies had warmed her when the fire and the blankets had not. She stared down at Richard. She had promised her father that she would keep him warm.

  Violet lifted the blankets and lay down on her bed. She tucked the blankets around them both and then wrapped her body around him. He shivered and then turned toward her.

  She lay still, trying to quiet the pounding of her heart. Violet had never been so close to a man. She could feel his breath on her cheek. After a while she could feel warmth returning to his skin, and she began to relax. She dozed fitfully.

  Just before dawn she finally rose. Prince Richard was sleeping deeply, and his skin no longer felt cold to the touch. Her father was standing in front of the fireplace eating a piece of bread.

  William gestured toward the door, and they walked outside. “How is he?” William asked, once they were clear of the house.

  “He stopped shivering a little while ago. He seems to be warm again, and he’s sleeping. How’s Mother?”

  “Sleeping as well. I think they both had a lot more sleep than either of us,” he said, smiling briefly.

  Violet stopped by the barn to check on the horses before returning to the house. Inside she was startled to find Richard awake and sitting up. Her mother was also stirring.

  “Well, now that everyone’s awake, we can have breakfast,” Violet said cheerfully.

  Richard watched closely as Violet made breakfast. He was feeling better, stronger. He vividly remembered resting beside her, shivering and clinging to her warmth. He was beginning to think that she might be the greatest mystery he had ever encountered.

  The priest arrived shortly after they had finished eating. “I’m relieved to see you looking so well,” he told Richard.

  “So am I,” Richard answered.

  The priest examined him closely, then sat back with a satisfied look. “I’d say you should be fit to travel the day after tomorrow. By then you should have regained your strength sufficiently.”

  Paul then turned his attention to Sarah, and Violet approached Richard.

  “Are you feeling better, then?” Violet asked.

  “Yes. In fact I could use a bit of fresh air. Would you care to accompany me outside?”

  “Yes, Highness.”

  His legs were stiff, but Richard suspected they would be fine once he was able to stretch them a bit. Outside the house he lifted his face to the warmth of the sun and breathed in deeply of the fresh air. It seemed as though he could actually feel his strength returning to him.

  He turned toward the barn, wanting to see for himself that Baron was all right. Violet walked beside him with a sure step. He glanced at her, admiring the way that she carried herself. There was no self-conscious preening on her part, only the strong, steady stride of someone who had spent her life working outdoors instead of confined to a room doing stitchery. It was refreshing, and so different from anything he had ever known as to be novel.

  Baron greeted Richard enthusiastically, and Richard stroked his nose, relieved to see his companion uninjured. “That was a nasty spill we took, boy. I’m just glad you seem to be in better shape than me.”

  To Violet he said, “Thank you for looking after him.”

  “It was no hardship,” she answered. “He’s a good horse, and he’ll stand still for anything if there is the promise of an apple.”

  Richard laughed appreciatively. “Hear that, Baron? She understands you better than most.”

  Violet flushed at that, and the pink in her tan cheeks made her look all the lovelier.

  Violet spent the rest of the day showing Richard around the farm. He had to stop and rest often, but each time he would get up with a dogged determination. Richard slept soundly that night, but Violet tossed and turned on her makeshift mattress, trying not to count the number of times her mother coughed.

  With the new dawn Richard was up as early as she was, eager to walk more. They walked slowly out to where he had had his accident and then rested themselves in the shade of a tree growing by the stream.

  “Tell me about your travels,” she urged, curious to hear of the world beyond her own.

  “There was one castle that was perched high on the top of a mountain. It took three days to climb up to it, and when we arrived, it was like a snowy wonderland. The flowers were blooming despite the snow, and the blossoms were of purple and blue and yellow.”

  “And was there a princess there?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Yes. She was a very delicate creature, no taller than this,” Richard said, standing and indicating a line just below his chest.

  Violet stood up and found that she was a good deal taller, for the top of her head reached his chin.

  “I thought that a good, stiff wind would carry her away,” he said, laughing.

  Violet laughed too, at the thought of it. “Surely she was too delicate!” she exclaimed, trying to picture the girl in her head.

  “Wait, there was another, in a castle deep in a valley surrounded by rivers. She was so thin, it was as though you could see through her,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter.

  “What happened?” Violet asked excitedly, sensing there was more to the story.

  “We went for a walk in the gardens, and while we were talking, a rose petal fell and bruised her foot so terribly that the poor thing couldn’t walk for three days.”

  “A rose petal?” Violet asked, bewildered. “Are you making fun?”

  “No, I wish I was. Poor dear. I don’t know how she’ll ever survive the carriage ride here.”

  Violet started laughing.

  “And what has amused you so?” Richard asked.

  “How would a woman like that ever manage to bear you children? She would probably faint at the very thought. If you so much as kissed her, you would probably knock loose all her teeth.” Violet continued laughing so hard that she began to cry. A strange look passed over Richard’s face, and she couldn’t tell if he was going to rebuke her or begin laughing as well.

  “I can assure you I am not so rough and crude a kisser,” he said at last.

  “I did not mean to imply you were,” she said, trying to wipe the tears from her face. “I only meant that the princess is so frail it’s a wonder her own clothes don’t crush her with their weight; an
embrace might crack her bones. And if she was ever kissed by a farm boy, the force would probably kill her.”

  “So, farm boys are forceful kissers,” the prince said, musingly.

  “Aye. They wouldn’t know any other way.”

  “And what of farm girls?”

  “They wouldn’t know any other way, either,” Violet said, smiling and blushing all at once.

  Richard moved like lightning, his left arm wrapping around Violet’s waist and his right hand cupping the back of her head. His face moved in toward hers, and Violet cried out in alarm. She was afraid, for she could feel the power of him, the roughness. But at the last instant, when Richard’s lips met hers, it was whisper soft. Not hard and fierce as she had imagined. Though his lips were barely touching hers, Violet could feel the strength of him wrapped around her. He swept her backward, supporting her body with his arm and her head with his hand, and still his kiss was gentle like a spring breeze and playful as a kitten. It overwhelmed her. She succumbed to it completely, letting herself go limp in his arms. Richard’s lips were soft, teasing, with a promise of something more to come. And then, slowly, he lifted her up, set her back upon her feet, and pulled away.

  “What was that for?” she asked, her voice and body shaking from the onslaught.

  “That is so that you shall know the difference,” Richard said, his breathing ragged.

  “But what good does that do me?” Violet burst out, bewildered. “I’m as likely to teach a pig to dance as teach a boy from the village to kiss like that.”

  “Then take it as a token, a thank-you for all that you have done for me.”

  “I would have done it for a starving beggar, let alone the man whose family owns the land my family works,” she said.

  Something dark and inscrutable shadowed his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the other night you would have been happier tending to a beggar.”

  With that, Violet slapped him, hard and fast across the face. She gasped, realizing what she had done. Prince Richard bent down to gaze at her fiercely, and Violet’s heart thudded, as she expected him to denounce her for her crime.