Una could feel the red blotches rising and dancing over her nose. Had he heard of the song in the garden? Was that somehow improper behavior? It had seemed innocent enough. “Why, Father, I – ”
“It appears that Prince Gervais is currently banished from his father’s house for enormous gambling debts,” Fidel said quietly. “He is not permitted home until he can pay them. Pass the salt, Felix, please?”
Una’s mouth opened and closed again.
“Marriage to a rich princess is a fine way to fast money,” Felix said.
Awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the sounds of Felix cutting his meat.
“Are you sure?” Una asked at last in a small voice.
“Quite,” King Fidel said. “I had heard rumors of his habits before now, of course, but the evidence presented this morning was enough to convince me that I did not want him singing any more love songs in my garden.”
“Did he do that?” Felix asked, looking up from his plate.
“But what evidence, Father?” Una demanded. “A man should not be presumed guilty, and what could possibly – ”
“A promissory note written out to one of Farthestshore’s knights,” Fidel said. “Gervais owes Aethelbald’s servant quite a sum, which he is unable to pay.”
“Aethelbald,” Una whispered.
“Signed and sealed with Gervais’s signet ring.” Fidel shook his head. “The poor boy did not try to deny it but packed up this afternoon with hardly a word. I think the thumping he got in the practice yard may have knocked some of the silver from his tongue.”
Felix chuckled quietly to himself.
Una’s mind, however, could fix on one thing only: Prince Aethelbald’s knight. Who but Prince Aethelbald himself would bring this information before the king? Una glared so hard at her coffee that it almost reboiled. “May I be excused, Father?” she asked and rose without waiting for a reply.
“You don’t want your meat?” Felix called after her, but Una did not hear.
There were no servants in the hall, so she stopped and leaned against the wall, her fingers pressed to her temples. This was not how things were supposed to happen! Gervais was supposed to propose. She was supposed to accept. They were supposed to marry and . . .
Her spinning thoughts jarred to a halt. Did she want to marry him?
Of course she did. She was in love with him, wasn’t she?
Her thoughts worked up speed and spun on while tears gathered in her eyes.
“Princess Una?”
She looked up. Prince Aethelbald stood before her.
“Are you unwell, princess?” he asked. “Should I summon – ”
She knew he was speaking, but she could not hear for the roaring in her ears. A bundle of words gathered in her throat and burst out in a mad jumble. “What did you could your business dare you!” Her eyes burned. “Never want to speak why did you can’t stand you!”
“Princess?” He took a step back, his face full of hurt and confusion.
“Are you – ”
“Don’t pretend you knon’t dow – don’t know – what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t presume to know, but I could probably guess,” he admitted.
“Prince Gervais – ”
“What business of yours I’d like to know. What business, well?”
“Princess, I never claimed – ”
“How dare you blacken his name how dare you to my father!” Una wanted desperately to spit out elegant barbs, but all that came out was an emphatic, “Don’t want you mister noble go away not your business!”
If nothing else, her body language was unmistakable. Prince Aethelbald took another step back and bowed. “Princess, I understand – ”
“You don’t!”
“ – your distress, but permit me to defend my – ”
“I don’t want your paltry defense!” she tried to say, though it came out, “I paltry don’t want you!” and she turned on her heel and stormed away.
He followed behind a few paces and spoke quietly. “I did not go to your father, Una. I spoke to Prince Gervais on behalf of my servant to whom the prince owes a great sum. I urged Gervais to speak to King Fidel himself and admit his position, as any honorable man would.”
Una gathered her skirts, tilted her chin, and rushed up the stairs to her rooms, leaving Aethelbald behind.
–––––––
Una passed her evening imagining all the brilliant things she should have said to Aethelbald but didn’t, but jolly well would next chance she got, so help her! They were most of them verbose, all of them witty, and each would have fallen flat if stuttered, but she didn’t consider that. She penned them in her journal and practiced them in her mind until they rolled perfectly off her imaginary tongue and Prince Aethelbald, cowed, crawled into his place.
The thought did nudge the edge of her mind now and then that perhaps Aethelbald had been right. After all, he hadn’t spread rumors. Gervais had done a fine job of blackening his own name.
But she refused to dwell on these thoughts, for she might have come to the conclusion that she owed Aethelbald an apology, and that could not possibly be true.