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Chapter 18 {Part One}: A Waking Nightmare

Nicholas blinked beneath the painful glare of sunlight bouncing off Lady Kirsi’s dazzling dress. As much as he admired the delicate intricacies of each miniature sword, the moment Lady Kirsi placed her hand on his shoulder to lean against him and dismount, Nicholas realized just how heavy the dress was.

With a muffled grunt of effort, he managed to ease the Duchess down onto the ground beside him and placed a steadying hand on her waist while Kirsi adjusted the weighted skirt behind her.

“Are you going to be able to walk in that?” Nicholas whispered with a note of amusement.

The Duchess glanced in his direction with a look that implied the Crown Prince would be in trouble if he laughed. Nicholas cleared his throat twice while he focused on keeping a playful grin in check. Behind them, Captain Beaumont quietly stepped forward to take the reins of the Duchess’s white mare.

“No pressure, Lady Kirsi,” Nicholas teased as he offered her his arm. “But if you trip now, it will only be in front of some of the most powerful families of Lafeara.”

The Duchess accepted his arm with a polite smile while her ice-blue eyes turned discreetly towards the crowd of nobles watching them in tense silence. “Your Majesty ought to be more worried of misunderstandings due to arriving with me instead of the Crown Princess.”

Nicholas chuckled dryly as he turned her towards their waiting host. “The Crown Princess does whatever she likes with no regard for me. I’m done with chasing after her. Eleanora has Lord Alastair and the Kensington Knights to keep her safe. I’ve tried being patient—but I am not going to let her ruin this for me.”

“Hopefully, her Highness will rejoin us after catching that stag,” Lady Kirsi replied worriedly. “My knights should have caught up with her by now.”

“I appreciate that you’re taking your task so seriously,” Nicholas murmured in a softer voice as they drew closer to the nobles. “It would certainly be a shame to lose my future queen due to some sort of hunting accident.”

The Duchess turned towards him with a questioning brow, then stumbled slightly as her front hem caught itself on the gravel road below.

Nicholas steadied her with an amused smile, then leaned in to whisper, “What exactly am I supposed to do with a Duchess who trips over her own dress?”

Kirsi laughed playfully as if she found his comment amusing. “Why don’t you try believing in my ability to walk without falling, your Majesty.”

Nicholas smirked, then slowed his pace and focused on the crowd of nobles who respectfully lowered their heads as they bowed and curtsied before him. Viscount Gilwren stepped away from the Manor steps to greet them personally. “Lord Rykard. Thank you again for hosting this year’s hunt. I look forward to sampling the healthy game you have prepared for us this year.”

“Your Majesty,” Rykard replied with pleased but subtle humility. “It is I who should thank you for granting me the honor of hosting your first and last hunt as Crown Prince. I pray that the spoils of Gilwren Forest will live up to your expectations.”

“When have the efforts of the Gilwren family ever disappointed the expectations of the Royal Family?” Nicholas countered as he placed a friendly hand on the Viscount’s shoulder, then motioned for him and the other nobles to rise. “Still, this year marks many happy celebrations. It is good to see the Gilwren family gathered beside you.”

The Crown Prince’s gaze settled for a moment on Lord Bromwell, who bowed silently towards him. Over the tall nobleman’s shoulder, Nicholas spotted a familiar redheaded young woman.

‘Wait, wasn’t she the one who disrupted Kirsi’s ennoblement ceremony?’

Lord Rykard took note of Nicholas’s gaze and hastily gestured toward the young lady. “Your Majesty, this is my grandchild, Lady Sophya Gilwren.”

The Crown Prince smirked at the Viscount’s subtle attempt to mask the woman’s paternal family.

‘Then again, given how much Rykard hated Lady Helena’s husband, I suppose this much is to be expected.’

Lady Sophya raised her eyes hesitantly and blinked when she met the Crown Prince’s gaze. Her startled reaction reminded Nicholas of a palace cat frightened by its own shadow. The young woman’s forest-green eyes stood out against her pale skin and striking red hair. The makeup she wore muted the dark shadows beneath her eyes, reminding Nicholas of the family she and Lady Kirsi had lost recently.

‘Their deaths appear to have hit Lady Sophya much harder than they did Lady Kirsi.’

A subtle movement from the nobleman who supported Sophya’s arm quickly snapped the girl from her dazed expression. Her cheeks immediately flushed a bright red as she bowed her head and curtsied. “G-greetings, your Majesty!”

“Of course,” Nicholas replied with neutral politeness. “My condolences to you, Lady Sophya. We are reassured to see you among family who will support you after such tragedy.”

“T-thank you—your Majesty.”

Nicholas nodded and motioned for the young lady to rise. Sophya complied only after a bit of prodding from the nobleman beside her. ‘He looks familiar too. Ahh—now I remember. He was the nobleman the Duchess’s knights injured after Sophya’s outburst.’

The nobleman in question, who appeared to be the same age as Nicholas, bowed his head respectfully toward the Crown Prince. Nicholas grunted and dismissed the matter from his mind as he turned to Lady Kirsi, who stared at her blood relatives with the same detached expression one would offer a stranger.

“And, of course, I have the honor of escorting your other granddaughter, Lord Rykard,” Nicholas announced as he lifted the Duchess’s hand toward her grandfather.

The Viscount hesitated, then stepped forward to bow and kiss the back of Kirsi’s hand. “Your Grace, I am so pleased that you could attend. Although—” he nodded pointedly to where the knights of Bastiallano were still filing into a large open field that connected to the Manor grounds. “We were expecting a smaller attachment of troops. Exactly how many knights did you bring to Gilwren?”

“Enough to secure his Majesty’s life and health,” Kirsi replied with a political smile. “You need not concern yourself with their care, Lord Rykard. As long as you have space on the grounds to accommodate roughly a thousand soldiers—”

Rykard sputtered out a muffled protest.

Kirsi smiled politely and then continued, “I assure you, Viscount, the men have brought enough tents, food, and other necessary supplies to be self-sufficient during their stay.”

“B-but—his Majesty will be residing inside Gilwren Manor?” Rykard blurted out. “Do you intend to surround my home with a thousand knights?”

“No, my Lord. A hundred knights should be more than sufficient.”

Nicholas struggled not to laugh at the Viscount’s visible distress. “Lady Kirsi is joking, Lord Rykard. I trust the two of you can work out suitable arrangements to make this work for everyone. The Duchess has promised to keep her knights out of the forest so as not to disrupt the hunt itself. And I believe the reputation of the Bastiallano Knights speaks for itself regarding their chivalry and discipline.”

Viscount Gilwren let out a slow breath and nodded in silent acceptance.

“Excellent!” Nicholas clasped his hands together and then motioned to the tall nobleman who stood in the Viscount’s shadow. “Lady Kirsi, I don’t believe you’ve met Lord Walter Bromwell. He is a relative of yours from your mother’s side of the family.”

“Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you,” Walter replied as he dipped into another respectful bow.

The Duchess raised a brow as she considered the nobleman curiously, then smiled and nodded her head in greeting. “Loss has a rather strange way of bringing distant family closer than before. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Bromwell?”

“Your Grace?” Walter lifted a questioning brow while Rykard clutched his stag cane tightly.

“His Majesty forgets that I am already adopted into a new family,” Kirsi continued as she touched the white wolf etched into her chest plate. “So, there is little need for me to acknowledge an all but non-existent one.”

‘Harsh, Kirsi.’ Nicholas glanced at the composed Duchess with mingled concern and uncertainty. ‘Don’t let the past alienate you from nobles who might otherwise support you. The knights of Bastiallano have yet to accept you as their Commander, and there are plenty of noble families waiting for the opportunity to tear you down.’

Lord Rykard appeared ready to burst a vein, while Walter only looked mildly confused. Nicholas cleared his throat and turned to acknowledge the silent giant waiting behind them. “Lord Bromwell, I’m sure you remember Captain Beaumont.”

“Captain!” Walter replied with enthusiasm as he raised his hand subconsciously to offer a salute, caught himself, and then bowed his head respectfully. “It is good to see you once more. I look forward to telling my cousins of your incredible feats in battle.”

‘Cousins?’ Nicholas arched a brow. He glanced curiously toward Kirsi, who continued to ignore the Knight Captain’s presence. ‘My word. It’s like trying to pair two rocks together.’

Beaumont’s violet eyes ran over Walter briefly before giving the man an acknowledging nod. Then the silent giant resumed his practiced expression of staring at nothing in particular.

“You know the Captain?” Kirsi asked with sudden interest as she studied Walter curiously.

“Yes, your Grace!” Walter replied eagerly. “I am the youngest son in my family. And, as per family tradition, I enlisted in the military, where I had the honor and privilege of serving under Captain Beaumont’s command. Our Company fought against the pagans at the border for nearly two years before a head injury forced me to retire early.”

The Duchess appeared to mull this information over with a faintly worried expression. Nicholas glanced back at the Knight Captain and smiled when he caught Beaumont studying the Duchess silently.

‘If you’re both so curious about each other, I’ll just have to find a way to force you to spend some time together.’

“It is good to see you again, Captain Beaumont,” Rykard interrupted with a friendly hand clap to Lord Bromwell’s shoulder. “Now I know from experience that it’s best to change the topic before Walter gets going.”Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“My apologies, Uncle,” Walter replied with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll save my stories from the battlefield for tonight's feast.”

“Perhaps the Viscount will make his announcement there as well,” Kirsi commented dryly as she studied the pair with a faint smirk. “Or perhaps I should offer my belated congratulations to you now, Viscount Gilwren. It seems you have found a suitable heir after all.”

An awkward silence ensued that left Nicholas blinking in surprise. ‘How did Kirsi—Isn't this the first time she's met Walter Bromwell?’

“Ahem,” Rykard cleared his throat and then attempted to force a smile. “You are perceptive as always, your Grace. Yes, Gilwren has always been passed down to the next male successor. Initially, I had hoped that your brother, Lincoln, would be able to meet my expectations—but as he was taken from us so suddenly—”

Nicholas glanced over at the Duchess, who was listening to the Viscount’s rushed explanation with an expression of cold disinterest.

“Lord Bromwell caught my eye long ago during his first hunt at Gilwren,” Rykard continued with growing confidence. “He is patient, capable, well educated, and comes from a long, proud line of Gilwren stock.”

‘He also happens to be your illegitimate son,’ Nicholas mused with a cynical smile. ‘You probably planned on having Walter succeed you whether the Turnbell boy lived or not.’

Bromwell coughed awkwardly in the uncomfortable silence that followed, then bowed his head to the Viscount. “I am honored to serve both my kingdom and Gilwren. And I am especially delighted to meet my cousins after such a long time.”

“A long time indeed,” Kirsi echoed with a faint chuckle. “Well—I wish you good luck, Lord Bromwell. In upholding the honor of the Gilwren name.”

“Duchess,” Nicholas cautioned gently. While a part of him still wasn’t sure if Kirsi knew all the details of Walter's parentage, he couldn’t help but feel anxious that she might expose the Viscount in retaliation after being neglected for so many years.

A sudden murmur behind the Viscount turned their attention to where Lady Sophya had collapsed in her fiancé’s arms.

“Oh, my!”

“What happened? Did she faint?”

The nobles parted worriedly as the fiance struggled to lift Sophya into his arms.

“My Lord, allow me,” Walter said confidently as he scooped the pale girl into his arms and continued up the steps towards the Manor. “Honored guests, if you could clear a path.”

The nobles parted gracefully while Viscount Gilwren stared after them, apparently at a loss. Rykard quickly turned his reproachful gaze toward Kirsi. “Your Grace, I realize that your upbringing may have lacked a certain level of refinement—but there is a time and place to discuss family matters!”

“Why did you bring Sophya here, Viscount?” Kirsi replied coldly. “Or was the death of our mother all that was necessary for you to finally acknowledge your grandchildren?” She stepped past Nicholas, her lips coiling with unmasked disgust. “Are you satisfied now that at least one of Helena’s children must come to you and beg for charity?”

Despite the Duchess’s short stature, Rykard appeared visibly taken aback by her verbal attack. The Viscount pressed his stag cane firmly into the ground as he met Kirsi’s gaze and then bowed his head. “I have wronged you both. I am only trying to make amends now—and yes, I will be taking an interest in Sophya’s future to ensure she does not follow her mother down the wrong path. But, however sorry I feel for my past actions, I can assure you, your Grace, that such emotions have no bearing on my choice for Gilwren's next successor.”

“You think I care who you choose as your successor?” Kirsi countered with a cynical smile.

“My Lady,” Nicholas placed a restraining hand on the Duchess’s arm and shook his head. Kirsi’s ice-blue eyes darted from his face to the silent crowd gathered around them before she drew in a quick breath and composed herself. “Pardon me, your Majesty. I should see to the arrangements of my knights and ladies.”

“Yes, of course, Lady Kirsi, but—” Nicholas watched worriedly as Kirsi lifted the hem of her dress and turned sharply to face the knights waiting behind them. Colonel Isaac stepped forward to greet the Duchess and assisted her smoothly back into the saddle. Once seated, Kirsi offered Nicholas a respectful parting bow and then turned the white mare down the circle driveway. Isaac and the twenty knights accompanying the Colonel fell quickly into place behind her.

“Your Majesty,” Rykard said quietly only after the Duchess had ridden out of earshot. “You do realize that the grounds around the Manor are limited. We’ve mapped out each camping site based on the number of nobles, servants, and knights that were invited. Adding an additional eight hundred—is all but impossible to accommodate.”

“You have cornfields close to the Manor that have already been harvested. One of them should be large enough to hold the majority of the Duchess’s knights,” Nicholas reminded him reasonably.

“That’s—true,” Rykard replied with evident reluctance. “But when would my staff and servants find time to clear—”

“Viscount, Bastiallano’s knights are accustomed to camping in the mountains and wilderness near the border,” Nicholas interrupted firmly. “I’m sure they can manage to clear an empty field and set up camp. They’ll have plenty of time to get comfortable since they won’t be participating in the hunt itself.”

“But—is it really necessary to host such numbers?”

The Crown Prince hesitated, a sudden suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind over the Duchess’s somewhat ambiguous decision.

“Not to mention what an immense responsibility it is for one so young and inexperienced to lead such an army,” Rykard continued in a much lower voice. “I heard that Colonel Isaac was forced to step down as Commander of the Bastiallano knights in order to accommodate the new Duchess. But does Lady Kirsi have the experience and temperament to lead them—much less look after your Majesty’s safety?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you've subtly called into question my decision to assign this task to Lady Kirsi,” Nicholas replied with an annoyed scowl that made the Viscount wince. “Part of the reason I gave the Duchess this mission was to allow her to gain some necessary experience.”

“Of course, forgive me, your Majesty,” Rykard replied, then bowed his head in acquiescence. “I shall do my very best to accommodate her Grace and see that she has all that is necessary to perform her task.”

“I expect nothing less of you, Viscount.”

❆❆❆❆❆

The dull pounding in Sophya’s head faded as she stared down the staircase of Turnbell Manor in confusion. The steady thud of footsteps turned her slowly to where Lincoln stood on the second-floor landing with a familiar scowl in place.

“B-brother!”

“Yes, yes, I know. Make sure I pass your letter to Asher and invite him back home for dinner during spring break,” Lincoln barked as he adjusted the green scarf she had gifted him on their sixteenth birthday. “Rest assured. I have it right here.” Lincoln tapped the left side of his jacket. “Though I don’t know why you won’t simply post it to him.” The tall redhead frowned as he continued down the steps towards her. “What’s wrong, Sophya? Why do you look so upset? Is it Maura again?”

“N-no. I—” Sophya stammered.

‘This is a dream. I know this is a dream. Any moment now, I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone.’

She reached out a trembling hand to grasp her brother’s wrist, then quickly stepped closer and pressed her face against his warm, familiar scent. “Please, Lincoln. Can’t you stay?”

“What? Stay home and get another hiding from Father?” Lincoln scowled and shook his head before patting her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry. This isn’t forever, Sophya. In three years, I’ll be graduating. Once I move to Gilwren to begin my training under Grandfather, I’ll find a way to bring you with me.”

“D-do you think—Grandfather—will let me stay?”

“Of course. You’re my one and only sister and his granddaughter!” Lincoln replied confidently as he kissed the top of her hand and gently pulled back. “I should go now before the carriage wheels freeze to the ground.”

“No! No, don’t go!” Sophya latched onto him quickly as Lincoln moved to step around her. His sturdy frame suddenly gave way, crumbling like moist blocks of sand between her arms.

Lincoln smiled at her as he disintegrated. The same affectionate smile he always gave her before he went away for another six months of schooling.

“Why are you acting so strange, Sophya? If you’re worried about Maura, then stay away from her. One of these days, I’ll figure out a way to remove that half-blood from our lives for good.”

Sophya smothered a sob behind her trembling fingers as the crumbling pillar of sand scattered down the staircase, leaving only Lincoln’s green scarf stitched with red roses to tangle itself around the bottom railing. In the silence of the large empty house, Sophya could only whimper as she sank onto the steps and waited for the dream to release her.

Two cold arms snaked their way around her neck and waist as a familiar, blood-curdling voice whispered gleefully in her ears. “That’s right, Sister. Feed me your resentment, heartache, and fear. Let me show you what it's like to live in despair.”

❆❆❆❆❆

The pain of her heart jumping against her chest jolted Sophya awake. She clutched at the soft quilt pulled over her chest while her eyes spun around, taking in the blue cloud-like curtains drawn around the bed. She could just make out the painted walls of birds and flowers through a small crack. She exhaled softly in relief, then pressed a hand to her lips in an attempt to stop the tears from breaking free.

“I’m just saying, I think you went after the wrong sister.”

Sophya stiffened as Valarie’s voice trickled in from behind the drawn curtains.

“Your comments aren’t exactly helpful in the current situation,” Asher replied grimly.

Sophya went as still as a mouse as she listened to a door close. She thought they had left for a moment, but then she heard Asher’s voice once more.

“No one could have guessed that that miserable half-blood would weasel her way into the palace as the future queen’s lady-in-waiting. I thought Maura might show some sympathy to her half-sister when she became a Baroness, but the bitch wouldn’t so much as put in a good word with either the Earl of Hawthorne or Viscount Gilwren.”

“I still don’t understand how she became Lady Kirsi Valda, Duchess of Bastiallano,” Valarie murmured. “Perhaps it’s true—the rumors of her being the Crown Prince’s mistress.”

“Doubtful,” Asher retorted. “Mother says it was the Dowager who pushed to adopt the half-blood. Even if Kirsi seduced the Crown Prince, Nicholas couldn’t force the Queen Regent to hand over her ancestral lands.”

“If you say so,” Valarie replied with an audible pout. “Still, we’d be in a far better position if you were engaged to the mistress of a king rather than some penniless orphan.”

“Lower your voice,” Asher growled worriedly. “Sophya could wake up at any minute.”

“Let her wake. Does Sophya know how much your mother has done for her already? Does she know how overextended the Winslet family finances are after covering more of her father’s outstanding debts? Even now, instead of winning over the Viscount’s favor, Sophya embarrasses him by fainting in public. Now some mystery cousin has appeared out of nowhere to inherit the Viscount’s title, lands, and wealth. Just because he happened to be born a man!”

“Don’t act so surprised, Valarie. It’s not like the situation is any different with you and your brother.”

“Yes, but Rufous is my brother. And don’t act like you’re not upset by this either. I know you are.”

“Of course, I’m disappointed, but it’s not like the Viscount will leave Sophya penniless!” Asher snapped. “He invited her here for a reason. Perhaps he means to provide Sophya with a dowery or some form of financial compensation?”

“You had better be right. We’ve invested far too much just to walk away empty-handed.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Mother.”

“Well, thank you for the compliment, Cousin. At least Aunt Florence had the foresight to refrain from making your engagement public until Sophya’s inheritance had been finalized.”

“And to think, I had planned on proposing in front of the Viscount—perhaps it's best to hold off a bit longer.”

Sophya smothered a weak scream behind her trembling fingers, then turned stiffly to bury her tears and face into a pillow.

“Why on earth would you still want to pursue her? Let me guess—Sophya’s still a virgin, isn’t she?” After an awkward silent pause, Valarie laughed. “Well, perhaps I should try my luck with Lord Bromwell then? I do rather enjoy the idea of becoming a Viscountess.”

“And here I thought you had your sights set on Earl Hawthorne,” Asher replied with evident sarcasm. “Although I suppose if either pursuit goes poorly, you still have Baron Stedelmen to fall back on.”

“Yes, dear old, sweet George,” Valarie mused thoughtfully. “If only he were younger and richer, I might be happily married already.”

“You and me both.”

Valarie snorted. Sophya tensed as a pair of footsteps moved closer. She hastily dried her cheeks and closed her eyes just before Asher pulled the curtain back.

“Is she still sleeping?” Valarie whispered somewhere close by. “How disappointing. So then, what do we do now? It doesn’t look like you or Sophya’s child will become the next Viscount of Gilwren.”

“Not unless Lord Bromwell dies without an heir,” Asher replied grimly.

“Too bad he didn’t die on the battlefield.”

“Anything could happen. It doesn’t look like he’s married in either case. For now, we wait and make the most of our time here.”

Sophya struggled to remain perfectly still as her fiancé leaned against the bed and brushed back a lock of her hair.

“All the nobles here are among the most powerful families in Lafeara,” Asher whispered as his finger’s trailed down her cheek. “We need to make what connections we can with the time remaining.”

“Well, seeing as you’re tied down at the moment,” Valarie replied sourly. “I suppose I’ll try to cosey up to Lord Bromwell. The hunt doesn’t start until tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes,” Asher confirmed. “And tell Rufous he needs to make a good impression too. There are plenty of highborn noble ladies of all ages staying at the Manor while their sons and brothers attend the hunt.”

Valarie laughed dryly. “Don’t you think you’re expecting too much from Rufous? You know he lacks both discernment and patience.”

“That’s why he was born with such a skillful younger sister,” Asher replied. A moment later, his weight left the bed. “Do what you can to suss out a few eligible ladies worth introducing him to.”

“Fine, I suppose Rufous isn’t completely hopeless,” Valarie replied in a resigned tone. “Very well then, I’ll leave you to act the doting fiancé while we explore the Manor and grounds.”

“Keep him away from the wine, Valarie.”

“Yes, Cousin. Ta, ta!”

The bedroom door closed, leaving Sophya trapped in suffocating silence with her fiancé. A cold numbness crept over her even as her stomach threatened to expose her wavering façade. Asher returned to the bed and resumed his gentle touch on her hair.

“You really are such a pitiful creature.”

A sharp sense of dread pierced Sophya’s chest as Asher’s weight left the bed once more. After a few minutes spent listening to strange noises on the other side of the room, Sophya opened her eyes warily. She watched in silent disbelief as her fiancé lifted Helena’s ruby necklace from the jewelry box and placed it inside his jacket pocket.