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Chapter 15: The Pretense of Power

It had only been a few short weeks since the citizens of Lafeara had seen the royal procession pass through its Capital streets to greet Ventrayna’s Ambassador. Ribbons of purple and silver waved in the morning breeze, tied to street posts and window shutters that overlooked the main road. They fluttered above the rank of royal knights who escorted Prime Minister Attwood, his son, Lord Acheron, and Crown Prince Nicholas through the street on horseback at the head of several nobles, knights, and attendants.

The first laborer to spot the knights quickly shuffled his wheel cart to the side and sounded the alarm. The common folk hastily gathered to form a somewhat uniform line along the street drains, where they cheered and waved enthusiastically for their prince.

“Long live his Majesty!”

“Long live Crown Prince Nicholas!”

“We are praying for you, your Majesty! Saints’ blessing upon you and the royal family!”

The commoners' upturned faces, proud smiles, and reverent gazes eased the tension in Nicholas's shoulders as he lifted a hand to offer a magnetic smile and wave in return.

“They’re still celebrating your Majesty's success with the Ventrayna negotiation,” Attwood observed with an acknowledging nod. “A reprieve from heavy taxes will allow them to better prepare for winter and feed their families.”

“Anyone would be thrilled to have the weight of the Emperor’s boot off the back of their neck,” Acheron muttered, his tone less cheerful than his words and forced smile implied.

‘How long until their humble adulation turns to anger when they learn Lafeara is going to turn its back on the Pope?’ Nicholas wondered absently as he glanced toward the oddly sullen rogue beside him. ‘Not to mention the possible plague Duchess Kirsi discovered in the slums.’

The Crown Prince lowered his hand to adjust the hunting bow strap across his dark burgundy jacket. Gold oak leaves and emerald vines, with tiny purple blossoms interwoven along the fabric, embroidered the hunting coat's cuffs and neckline. Beneath his fancy outerwear, a studded leather tunic embossed with the royal wolf symbol rested over a lightweight chainmail forged from witch steel, worn over a comfortably thin but durable linen shirt. Similar plates of the magically infused steel were fastened to the leather armor braces and leg guards hidden beneath his clothes.

‘Uncomfortable as hell, but better a long awkward ride to Gilwren Forest than a short one.’

Witch Steel was perhaps Ventrayna’s second-greatest asset. The magically forged metal could only be smelted by the flame of a fire witch. The few precious bars the Emperor had granted as part of Eleanora’s engagement to Tristan were forged into a full suit of armor for King Henri. After his death, the Dowager had overturned the monarch's rather vainglorious request to be buried in the witch steel armor. She gifted what was essentially a royal treasure to Nicholas on his nineteenth birthday. The Crown Prince had the entire suit of armor smelted down and refashioned into more practical gear that could be worn outdoors on days like today.

‘Even Tristan never got to wear armor made of witch steel despite the number of battles he took part in.’ Nicholas turned in his saddle and hid his discomfort behind another smile as he waved to the growing crowd of citizens, which now contained a few nobles as well. ‘Though, given Tristan’s incredible luck and survival skills—perhaps he didn’t need it.’

The very thought of the First Prince soured the bright morning light that flooded the streets around them, reflecting off the armor of the giant knight captain who rode just in front of the Crown Prince. Nicholas drew in a slow breath as he focused on Beaumont’s lethal bastard sword, most of the hilt wrapped in blood-red leather that stopped just beneath the large amethyst jewel at its very tip. The Crown Prince still smiled at the memory of his bodyguard knocking Tristan on his ass in practice. Beaumont was the strongest person Nicholas had ever seen, even without his sword.

‘Soon enough, our first shipment of witch steel will arrive from Ventrayna. Sir Iker is already hard at work clearing his schedule for the incoming special order of 200 knight swords. Once we have enough witch steel to outfit at least a thousand knights, we’ll be in a stronger position to enforce our western border and keep those pagan witches from invading during the next summer’s harvest.’

“A small detour ahead, your Majesty,” Attwood explained after a whispered conversation with a steward who had ridden forward to deliver a message. “Her Highness isn’t too far behind us. I believe it would be worth the minor inconvenience to wait for your future queen.”

Nicholas sighed, nodded, then adjusted his position in the saddle as they turned towards the town square where the knights fanned out to provide a bit more breathing room from the thronging, cheering crowds. A nearby flower cart was almost overturned as the crowd looted its buckets of bouquets. Colorful wildflowers and petals rained over the knights to scatter at the feet of the Crown Prince and his nobles.

“Let’s hope they remain calm,” Acheron muttered while offering the crowd his own diplomatic smile, which earned several squeals of delight from nearby women. “Things will turn ugly real quick if a fight breaks out.”

Nicholas nodded worriedly in agreement. ‘I’d rather not have any blood spilled on such an important day.’

A jubilant blast of trumpets calmed the crowd as more knights poured into the square, escorting the Crown Princess, who rode alongside her father, Lord Alastair Kensington. Eleanora’s hunting dress almost perfectly matched that of the Crown Prince’s garments in appearance, with the exception of a few frills and a full skirt.

‘And here I thought she’d seize the opportunity to wear men’s trousers in public,’ Nicholas thought ruefully as he turned his horse around to greet her.

The sun danced upon the net of emerald and ruby decorations that held Eleanora’s licorice black hair above the high collar of her dress. Her amber eyes flashed above a confident smile as she turned her attention to the cheering crowd and offered them a perfect smile and wave.

“Bless you, Princess Eleanora.”

“Long life to you, your Highness!”

“We love you, Princess!”

“It would appear your success has also bolstered the Crown Princess’s position and reputation,” Attwood observed thoughtfully as he too watched the crowd push forward to offer the foreign princess flowers and words of gratitude.

“Why wouldn’t they love her?” Acheron countered with a sharp look towards his father. “It was Eleanora’s marriage that secured such a large tax cut for our kingdom.”

"And mine," Nicholas shot back with an impatient glare the rogue appeared to ignore.

‘What is with him today? It’s like he’s trying to pick a fight with me.’

A cunning smile quickly spread across the Crown Prince’s face as his gaze returned to the Crown Princess and the ladies in waiting who rode behind her. “I see your future wife will be joining us, Lord Acheron. Perhaps you should go over and say hello?”

Acheron’s steel-blue eyes faltered in Lady Evelynn’s direction. The rogue quickly turned his mare to face the exit the knights were already clearing for their departure and rode off, much to the Prime Minister’s frustration.

“Pardon me, your Majesty. It appears my son needs yet another firm lecture,” Attwood muttered as his frowning gaze followed after the fleeing noble.

Nicholas waved his hand permissively and turned to wait for Eleanora. ‘Really, Acheron. If you’re so opposed to the idea of marrying her, then you shouldn’t have slept with the lady in such a public place.’If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The Crown Prince watched his wife draw closer with mixed emotions. There was something about the way Eleanora controlled the beautiful red warhorse her late uncle had gifted her that annoyed him. Her own exotic beauty and natural strength appeared to have charmed the crowd, who had taken to chanting her name over his own.

‘Then again, Eleanora's beauty and charm were what made Tristan fall in love with her. Let’s see how long the public continues to hold the Crown Princess in high regard and whether she can sway more nobles to support her as queen.'

Nicholas quickly forced a welcoming smile onto his face as his wife reined in beside him.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Eleanora whispered as she brushed a loose lock of hair away from her pink cheeks. “We were supposed to leave the palace together.”

“Someone was running late,” Nicholas reminded her pointedly and then leaned across to lightly peck her cheek. “Never mind that now. We have an audience to appease.”

Eleanora’s lips twitched with an amused smile as she caught the lapel of his jacket and pulled him back towards her for a full-on kiss.

Nicholas felt his cheeks burn as the crowd erupted around them with a booming roar of approval. He tightened his grip on the reins but let her end the kiss and pull away first. “Not that sort of display,” he muttered and then gestured to where Attwood and Acheron were waiting for them to proceed.

“I just wanted to show my gratitude to the husband who waited so patiently for his wife to get ready,” Eleanora replied with a sultry smile and wink.

Nicholas blinked as the Crown Princess and her warhorse eagerly danced past Captain Beaumont towards the front of the knights.

“Wait, your Highness!” Eleanora's cousin, the newly minted Viscount Marco, rode past the Crown Prince with a hasty bow as he pursued the emboldened princess.

Nicholas sighed, nodded his head towards Viscount Kensington, then turned and kicked both heels against the stallion’s flanks as he rode after his troublesome wife.

‘Did no one tell her that we’re supposed to ride side by side?’

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The royal couple managed to settle into a more traditional arrangement and pace for the remainder of their ride through the capital. Lord Kensington rode behind them, beside Lord Attwood, while Acheron dropped back to accompany the younger nobles, who had already cracked open the first bottle of wine for the road.

‘At least they waited to start drinking until after we left the Capital.’ Nicholas shook his head, feeling a tiny bit of envy for the rogue’s dismissive regard for his public image and seemingly free lifestyle. ‘I wonder how much will change after he’s married.’

Behind the royal knights came the carriages that carried the wives of the invited nobles, followed by carts packed down tightly with colorful tents used for the hunt. Nicholas noticed that none of the carriages bore the mark of the Kensington family and felt a stab of relief that his mother-in-law would not be joining them.

“Is this everyone?” Eleanora asked as she too glanced over her shoulder to observe their small tail. “With so few competitors, winning this year’s competition will be easy enough.”

“I’m afraid the number of those attending will more than double in size by the time we reach Gilwren,” Nicholas replied with an apologetic smile. “While Viscount Rykard prefers to keep the number of nobles invited small so as to have enough room and showers to host us properly, families like Borghese and Hawthorne tend to bring their own supporting nobles to such events.”

Eleanora nodded, the gleam in her eyes fading as she fiddled with the tassels on her reins.

“What is it?” Nicholas tilted his head slightly as he studied her. “You were practically bouncing in your saddle earlier at the thought of slaying deer and bunnies in the forest.”

“I heard—that Lady Kirsi came to visit you late last night—at Peony Palace?” Her amber eyes flicked toward him with a glimmer of anger and suspicion.

‘This again?’ Nicholas repressed a sigh as he focused on the road ahead. Ever since he sided with his grandmother to have Lady Maura officially adopted into the royal family and then instated as Duchess of Bastiallano, Eleanora would turn into a veritable porcupine whenever the name Lady Kirsi was mentioned.

“Her Grace brought a matter of public safety to my attention,” Nicholas replied with forced patience. “Nothing more. We should be grateful the Duchess has taken her role and responsibilities so seriously.”

“Indeed. And how serious they must be for her Grace to visit you in the dead of night.”

Nicholas clamped his teeth together at her tone and exhaled slowly through his nose. “And how is it, Crown Princess, that you are so well informed of the comings and goings of Peony Palace? I expressly forbade my knights and servants from mentioning Lady Kirsi’s visit.”

‘I’ll have to ask the royal steward to look over the housing staff list again. It would be problematic if news of the Duchess’s discovery reached the public’s ears.’

“I see, so that is what your Majesty is concerned about,” Eleanora responded coldly. “Are you saying that I should take no notice of the women who come and go from your palace after curfew?”

“I am at Rose Palace every other night, Eleanora. What more do you want from me?” Nicholas responded sharply.

Eleanora snorted. “It is none of my concern if your Majesty wishes to extend the number of Mistress he keeps. Just remember that only our child will convince the Emperor to extend his generosity.”

‘She actually suspects that the Duchess and I have that sort of relationship?!’ Nicholas squeezed the reins as he fought back a laugh, keenly aware of the knight captain who rode ahead of them. “I have more than held up my end of this political marriage, Eleanora. You asked that I refrain from visiting Lady Rosamund. I have done so. You asked permission for your father’s knights to guard your palace. I have granted it.” He turned his hazel-blue eyes towards her and offered an empty smile. “But as for the matter of a child, that will depend on your ability to conceive and become a mother.”

The Crown Princess’s eyes flashed dangerously while the warhorse beneath her tossed his head in agitation. “What are you—How dare—"

“If you want a demonstration of my ability to produce an heir, then say so, your Highness. There are plenty of noble families hoping for the chance to have their daughters welcomed into the royal family as a Royal Consort.”

The look of hurt that flickered across her amber eyes made Nicholas regret his words. He turned away and ignored her glare. ‘She started the fight, not me. I’ve had enough of her unreasonable accusations.’

He bit back her name as Eleanora charged suddenly ahead, startling the royal knights who hurried out of her path. The Kensington knights, their capes bearing the image of an oak tree surrounded by stars, broke rank to gallop behind her. Lord Alastair and Lord Marco followed them quickly. The Crown Princess's father sent Nicholas a pointed look of disapproval as he passed.

Prime Minister Attwood moved up beside the prince as the shamble of royal knights quickly regrouped around them. “What happened?”

“Arugh—her Highness is more eager for the hunt than I thought,” Nicholas replied with a helpless shrug.

Attwood sighed and tilted his head towards the brilliant blue sky above them as if sending a silent prayer to the Saints. “Did you have another fight?”

Nicholas laughed and then nodded reluctantly.

“Why?”

“Perhaps we’re simply not compatible, Prime Minister.”

Attwood shook his head, then rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he gazed after the runaway princess. “You must learn patience, your Majesty. Arranged marriages are about showing respect and knowing when to compromise.”

“Perhaps you should be lecturing her Highness then,” Nicholas responded with an impatient growl.

“I will leave that to Lord Alastair,” Attwood replied as he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun to their left. “It looks like she’s slowed down at least.”

“I’ve tried being patient—but how do you compromise with someone who creates problems out of thin air?”

“What sort of problems?” Attwood pressed curiously.

The Crown Prince shook his head and glanced towards Beaumont’s silent back. “Eleanora accused me of having an inappropriate relationship with Lady Kirsi.”

“W-what?! With the Duch—”

Nicholas resisted the urge to laugh as the Prime Minster’s worried gaze snapped immediately to the knight captain.

“Well—I suppose jealousy is a perfectly normal part of every relationship,” Attwood murmured hesitantly as he tapped his chin. “I honestly thought things were going well between the two of you after the Ambassador’s visit.”

“They were—in bed at least,” Nicholas replied sourly as the memory of their last cordial coupling filtered through his mind. ‘The sex isn’t exactly passionate, but it’s not terrible either.’ “It’s holding a conversation without biting each other’s heads off that’s the problem.”

Attwood smiled sympathetically. “Give it time, your Majesty. I’m sure her Highness will feel more at ease and comfortable once a royal heir is on the way. At least you know you work well together when you have a common goal.”

“I suppose,” Nicholas grumbled and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle once more.

“Ahh, we appear to have caught up with them.”

The Crown Prince raised his gaze and narrowed his eyes as he took in a shepherd by the side of the road who was lifting his young daughter toward the Crown Princess. The child offered Eleanora a crown of white and yellow daisies, which Eleanora accepted with a beautiful smile before pressing a gold crescent into the shepherd's hand. When the Crown Princess rejoined her knights, she glanced in Nicholas's direction and, after a whispered prompt from Lord Alastair, rode back to join them.

“Why not try to clear the air so you can both focus on enjoying the rest of the journey,” Attwood prompted before pulling back to resume his original place.

The Crown Prince drew in a strained breath and offered his returning wife a welcoming smile as she circled and rode beside him. “You appear to be in a better mood,” Nicholas commented with a glance at the circle of daisies.

“My smile is but an illusion for your adoring citizens,” Eleanora replied without missing a beat. “Just like our marriage and your claim to Lafeara’s throne.”

“Your Highness!” Lord Alastair hissed reproachfully as he rode past them to join the Prime Minister.

“What? Am I not allowed to speak the truth simply because I’m married?” The Crown Princess glanced over her shoulder briefly and then yanked the flowers from her head. “If his Majesty had any real power, he would have stopped the Dowager from making a half-blood into a Duchess.”

‘Just how far will you push me until you’re satisfied?’

Nicholas reached across the short distance between them and snatched the crown of daisies from her hand. “While we’re out here airing the truth, Eleanora,” He crushed the flowers and flung them down onto the dirt road. “Perhaps I should remind you that you are not yet queen. When it comes to power and authority, a Duke and Duchess hold far more influence than a princess.”