Tales From Meridea, Volume II
The last thirty minutes had just been Luci pacing the hardwood floor, wearing it down until it was a miracle she hadn’t fallen through into the parlor below. Below, where Prince Ira and Brielle had been joined by Lord and Lady Treveon. Good will and well wishes spilling like a bottle of wine. If onlythey knew what the truth was. That Brielle had entered into an impossible bargain. In fact, at least twenty-nine out of the last thirty minutes had been Luci convincing herself not to go tell Brielle she was out of her mind.
Flashes of the vision she had seen accosted her mind, reminding her what was possible. Brielle is running and healthy. Prince Ira and she had been reaching for each other. The words he had spoken to her. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. Maybe it was their engagement that brought it all to fruition. Except that was all insane.
Scratching her dark head of hair, she groaned up to the sky. Nothing made sense. That was it. She was going to march down there and ask to speak to Brielle privately, convince her to call off the whole thing, then accept the consequences as they came.
The door opened, and Luci squealed, heart pumping erratically. Calcifer let out a low meow and shot her a glare that should have turned her to stone right there before curling back into a ball and stretching his legs. How he managed such a feat was beyond her.
“Brielle is asking for you, and she says to stop pacing; it will all be fine,” Mrs. Blakesley said, arms crossed.
Luci stared with her mouth open. They had all gone mad.
“She said she would marry him!” Luci shouted probably too loud.
Two arched eyebrows, “And she has asked for you.”
Groaning, Luci threw herself onto the bed and screamed into the mattress. Brielle wanted her to go down there. Where Prince Ira was. Brielle’s fiancé.
“If you are done throwing a tantrum, I am to escort you to make sure you don’t run away, though why Lady Brielle would have to worry about that, I don’t know.”
“I’m cursed.” Luci pouted, her chest too tight.
“Yes, cursed to plague me. Get up, Lucinda.”
A light thump on her leg said she had used up what little patience Mrs. Blakesley had. Fine. She would waltz into the parlor and melt into the floorboards until she was nonexistent. With defeat in her heart and despair pumping through her blood, Luci lifted herself off the bed and met Calcifer’s gaze as he cracked one eye open.
“You are so lucky you are a cat,” she said.
He seemed to be in agreement as he tucked his face tighter into his body and went back to sleep, soft snores mixing with wheezes. Maybe she should stop feeding him quite so many treats, given the way his massive body rose and fell. Probably not, he wouldn’t approve.
“Lucinda.” Mrs. Blakesley said.
Fine. She was going. Throwing a scarf around her head of blue flowers with a white background, she tied it and faced her kidnapper with outstretched arms.
“Happy?” she asked.
In answer, Mrs. Blakesley held out her hand towards the door. Grumpy woman. Out of reasons to delay, Luci walked herself down the stairs until the sound of laughter rang in her ears. Prince Ira’s laugh. Someone should have told him that he could pull back on the charm since Lord Treveon was unlikely to withdraw his approval of the engagement.
Standing in front of the door, Luci stared at the gold doorknob, imagining that it was scalding and would burn her at the lightest touch. She needn’t have worried, though, as Mrs. Blakesley reached around her and pushed open the door. So helpful. Luci sent her a rueful glare over her shoulder before pasting on a smile that probably reeked of insincerity.
Lord Treveon paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at her audacity. No doubt he was not informed of her summons. It was almost surprising he hadn’t locked her up to avoid this exactsituation. Brielle, all grace, ignored him, holding her hand out to Luci.
“Oh, Luci, you must meet Prince Ira,” she said, a gleam in her eye that shouldn’t have been there.
Luci wanted to shake her and tell her this was all fake, but that likely would have been counterproductive, so instead she placed her hand in Brielle’s, squeezing her hand tightly as she bowed.
“Prince Ira, it’s an honor to meet you.”
As she lifted her head, her gaze fell on the prince who, only a night ago, had twirled her and whispered in her ear. For a moment, she felt frozen, sure the truth was written all over her face. His eyes roamed over her face and over her hair as if he were cataloging her. Time and space were paralyzed beneath those eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said, reaching out his hand for hers. “Brielle has spoken very highly of you.”
Oh no. This was not a situation Luci could have foreseen. She could practically feel Lord Treveon’s eye burning into her. She waited for him to remind the prince that she was merely a servant, not worth wasting niceties on, but no proclamation came while awkward silence grew around them.
Brielle squeezed her hand.
With all the trepidation in the world, Luci placed her free gloved hand in his and tried not to die as he placed the lightest feather of a kiss onto it that seared and burned her skin. Withdrawing the offending appendage, she gripped her dress, hoping it would quell the burning flames. It didn’t.