Lidia, quiet though she may be, did enjoy sharing any tidbits with me that she heard or saw outside of the castle. She was never quite as graphic as Dayna, but every bit as eager.
Just as Lidia was assisting me with removing my night clothes, the door flew open again, giving me a brief glimpse of a wide eyed Torben. I jerked my gown up over my bare shoulder and tore my eyes from his to glare at my sister.
Dayna slammed the door with just as much fervor as she had opened it.
“Have you not heard of knocking?” I snapped at her, embarrassment at Torben having seen me in such a state burning up my flesh.
“Sure, I have heard of knocking. But why should I have to knock to enter my own sister’s room? And besides, I assumed by this hour you would already be changed and ready for the day,” Dayna countered. “How was I to know that you were dragging around your room like a sickly snail?”
“Can you think of one reason why I should be jumping for joy to begin the day?”
A mischievous smile lit my sister’s face. “Well, I can think of two and they are both standing just outside your room. Where has Father been hiding those two?”
“I have no idea. They were there when I awoke this morn. Now would you please lock the door so that no one else barges in while I am changing?”
“Yes, yes,” she waved me off. “Get ready, but while you are doing so we must discuss our strategy.”
“What strategy?” I asked as Lidia slid my dressing gown over my head and then held out one of Cathal’s dresses for me to step into. The fabric was slick and cool. It felt good against my heated skin. But once she raised it all the way up and I slipped my arms in it, I realized how little it covered and my skin flushed even hotter. I glanced down at the overabundance of cleavage that was pressed up and out by the cut of the dress.
“The strategy we shall employ to convince King Cathal that you are not the bride for him,” Dayna answered as she tapped her chin. The wheels were turning in my sister’s head and I did not know if I should be thankful or scared.
“Perhaps he is not a man who likes breasts,” I pointed to my own. “Since mine seem to be handing out engraved invitations, he will be repulsed and sail back to Tara without delay.”
Dayna made a sound between a snort and a laugh. “Breasts are like sunshine, my dear sister. Everyone likes them.”
Lidia scrunched her nose up at the offensive gown. “I cannot believe that this is the fashion in France.”
“The French encourage embracing the beauty of the feminine form,” Dayna said absently.
“Can they not embrace it behind closed doors?” I said as I walked over to the mirror and stared, wide eyed at the woman before me. “I am not leaving this room…not like this,” I declared.
“I am a bit surprised he would allow you to be paraded around like that. Won’t he be jealous? The eyes of every man in the castle will be upon you.” Dayna asked, having abandoned, for the time being, her plans to derail the impending nuptials.
I stared at my image, feeling like a woman of the night. How could I hold my head up as a princess of my people while dressed like a harlot?
“No,” I finally responded. “Cathal is a man who is absolutely confident in his own position. He wants other men to see me and know that they could never have me. He wants other men to be jealous of him, lording over them what they could never touch.”
The three of us stared at the mirror for several moments in silence until I finally threw my hands up. “There is nothing to be done about it now.” I turned from the mirror and motioned for Lidia to follow. “Could you please just do something simple with it?” I asked pointing to the mass of hair still mused from my sleep.
“I have taken it upon myself to be your escort, sister mine,” Dayna informed me as she flopped down on the chair across from me.
“Do not feel that you must. I will have my guards with me.”
She grinned back at me and winked. “Oh, believe me, it has not slipped my notice that you will have those two handsome beasts with you.”
“Handsome beasts?” I asked while Lidia giggled.
Dayna shrugged shamelessly. “I may be only sixteen, mind you I am very close to seventeen, but that does not mean I do not know a prime stallion when I see one. Or two,” she added cheekily.
I pointed my finger at her, attempting to sound as stern as possible. “Well, you just make sure you don’t suddenly develop an interest in equestrianism, Dayna Auvray.”
“I think interest isn’t a strong enough word. I’m thinking of taking up trick riding.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, attempting to keep the headache I felt coming on at bay. “Bloody hell, you will be the death of me.”
“There have been very few times in my life when I have had the wind knocked out of me, and it’s never happened when I wasn’t in a fight.”
* * *
~ Torben
“That is to be your wife?” Brant asked.
I heard my friend’s words, but I was still too busy staring at the door that had just been closed in my face a second time. My brain was stuck on the exposed collar bone and shoulder of the woman who held me captive.
I felt a smack to the back of my head and whipped around with a snarl on my face. “Mind yourself, Brant.”
He held up his hands. “I meant no offense, but you seemed a little distracted. I do not blame you. She is quite a lovely piece.” Brant’s eyes flashed with something that looked like amusement. “Not to mention, she is pure as the driven snow. A woman who has known the touch of a man would never turn that shade of red.”
I felt my muscles tense at the fact that my next in command was having such thoughts regarding Allete. Pure as the driven snow was just another way of saying she had never been unclothed in front of a man. “It would behoove you to keep your thoughts far from the skin of Allete and whether she has been touched by a man,” I snapped. For whatever reason, one I was not about to examine too closely, I felt very protective of the small, feisty princess.
“All teasing aside,” Brant said after several minutes of silence. “She is beautiful. I hope the prophecy is correct, and she is the woman who you will have. You deserve something beautiful in this life of war we live.”
“When did you become so philosophical?” I jested.
Brant shrugged his large shoulders. “I have layers.”
I chuckled. “Yes, you are certainly like an onion. Peel back the layers to find something underneath, but by doing so, a stench is released that brings tears to the eyes of those around you.”
“You are simply a riot,” Brant said dryly. “Oh, and just to ease your mind, I have no designs on your woman. Now the lively one who just whipped past us with only a passing glance, she is intriguing.” He licked his lips. “She is more to my taste.”
I groaned. “We are on a mission. Please refrain from attempting to bed a host of the English women.”