Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 125 - The Castle Proper

ETAN

He wasn't sure what he'd expected after the summons from his father—he knew there was a risk he would be detained if he was seen by the royal guards. But whatever he'd thought, it wasn't that he would walk through the castle with his hood up, and completely unnoticed, all the way to his chambers.

He and Borsche had entered the stables silent, watching for any sign of being followed or monitored, but there was nothing. There were people everywhere—stableboys rushing between stalls, nobles and their servants returning from rides, heading out for rides, horses being washed and brushed… All the activity of a busy castle on one of its busiest days, in anticipation of a great festival night. 

Borsche had looked at him and shrugged. "I expect a plot," he said. "But this is the first place they'd be watching for you. Perhaps… perhaps the Father has laid the journey for us and this will not be the danger I fear," he said. 

"Perhaps," Etan said, his entire body tense, waiting for something to go wrong. 

But instead, Borsche began to unsaddle his mount, speaking below the noise of the crowded yard for Etan's ears only. "I will stay in my riding clothes so I am less easily noticed and find the Queen immediately. You return to the chambers and wash. Remember you likely meet your parents-in-law in the hours to come. Show them your pride as a Summitran," he growled.

Etan huffed, but nodded, stripping his own horse of it's saddle and travel bags. "Yes, sir," he said dryly. 

"Go immediately to the library we agreed upon and even if no one is there, wait. You may be the first to arrive. I will bring your mother, and hopefully Ayleth will soon be here and join you while Falek brings hers. Do not become impatient, Etan. This is a came of nerves. Don't let yours break."

Etan nodded and sighed. "I won't. Thank you."

Borsche approached then and pulled him into an overlong hug, clapping his back and a murmuring, "I will see you within the hour. Go safely under the Father's eyes." 

"And you," Etan said. 

Then, swallowing emotion, he had watched Borsche stride towards the Castle proper, alone and in his riding clothes so that he was less likely to be identified, or stopped by those waiting for Etan.

Then, once Etan had rubbed his horse down and passed him off to the stableboy, he started for the castle himself, head down and sword strapped to his hip.

But though he walked with every muscle tensed and poised for fight or flight… nothing happened. It was as if the castle did not even notice that he had arrived. Which, he supposed, was true. 

He walked through the wide corridors—which bustled with servants, masters, decorators, and scribes, all preparing for the peak of the festival coming the next day—unnoticed, and uninterrupted. He braced when he reached the door of his chambers, wondering if somehow his parents might have heard of his arrival secretly and waited to leap upon him with accusations. Perhaps Borsche had been unable to split the King and Queen, and all their planning was for naught.

But as he entered the door opened to a bright, sunny room prepared for his arrival… but empty. 

Shaking his head and rolling it on his neck to release some of the tension, he pushed into his bedroom and quickly stripped, bathed himself hurriedly in the washbasin at the side of the room to remove the worst of the travel dust, rinsed his hair in the murky water, then with sharp tugs and efficient movements, dressed in the formal attire of the Summitran Heir—a fawn and gold jacket over a thick white shirt open at the neck, buff trousers, black boots, and the sword with the decorative hilt, though it was just as deadly as his normal short-sword.

He was to go to the library to meet Ayleth and together they would wait for their mothers to be brought to the room. He was going to see his wife again very soon.

Heart quickening and with a hasty prayer to the father than nothing would get in Falek and Borsche's way, or detain their mothers, Etan pushed out of his chambers and into the formal hall, his mind already on how he would speak to the Queens and—

"Your presence is requested immediately, Sire," a small messenger boy said, trotting up behind him from somewhere in the bowels of the Castle.

Etan's adrenalin spiked as he turned, though it was a relief to see a messenger rather than guards. Or worse.

"What's that?" he said to the boy, rather abruptly, but the boy just bowed. 

"The Queen says make haste to the library."

Etan blinked. His first instinct was that it must be a trap. But unless it was truly a message from his mother—whom Borsche had been sent to find—how would they know about his plan to meet in… "I'm sorry, which library?" he asked the boy, testing him.

"The library in the Royal wing, Sire," the boy said, his eyes flickering left and right as if he were afraid he'd said something wrong. "It was said you had already planned to be there? The message was only for you to hurry. The Queen insisted that you not tell anyone along the way, that the Princess was with her and that she knew. She warned caution—be quick, but alert."

Damn. Ayleth must have beaten him back and been forced to tell her mother already! "Show me a short cut, please. There's a coin in it for you if you run."

"Yes, Sire!" the boy said, his eyes lighting up as he darted down the hallway in the same direction Etan had been moving and led him up a flight of servants stairs, then across a much more ornate corridor, the sconces shining in their own light. 

Etan shook his head, but refused to let himself dwell on the disrespect his family had been shown since the moment they arrived. This was a time for building bridges, not resentments. But he vowed that he would never accept that kind of treatment again. 

It took only minutes to make it to the wing which Etan remembered because it was where they'd exited the castle to the small garden where the pagoda was that he and Ayleth…

His body tenses and Etan growled at himself to stand down. He barely saw the ornate moldings, massive vaulted ceilings, or double-arched doors of Ayleth's royal home. He did pass a brief second wondering if he was passing her bedchamber, but the boy had taken him at his word, and was running quickly through the halls, Etan on his heels. 

Soon after they entered the royal wing—even busier with servants and decorators than downstairs had been—the boy slipped around a corner and led him down an equally beautiful, but short hallway, to a wide door at its end. 

When he pushed the door open, beckoning Etan through, Etan paused, hand on his sword, until he did indeed see the bookshelves lined with books, and the large windows to allow light of the library. 

Digging a coin from his pocket for the boy, he thanked him as he passed, ran a hand through his hair then stepped inside.

The library was one large room with two couches and two plush chairs. More of a family sitting room, than a grand library. But perhaps the intimacy would help them all relax.

Yet, as he turned and there was no one else present, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand. 

Unfamiliar with the room—which was empty of other bodies as far as he could tell—he walked to each end to be certain there were no hidden alcoves or doors into other space, but no. There was nothing. 

And no people.

No mother. No Queen. No Ayleth, no Borsche, or Falek.

Every instinct within Etan began to scream, while his mind provided any number of reasons why his mother, or even Ayleth might not be here yet. 

If it had been a trap, surely there would have been people here waiting to take him? And how else would they have known about the plan to meet here? But then, if they'd been so much closer to this room than he, why hadn't they beat him here?

But why send a messenger boy if they wanted to take him prisoner?

Hand on his sword and muscles rigid, he whirled on his heel and ran for the door, breath tearing in his throat and every sense screaming alarm.

He grasped the door handle and turned, but it moved under his hand as soon as he touched it and began to swing open towards him under the power of someone else on its other side. 

Etan leaped back drawing his sword and taking the defensive stance, ready to strike at whomever came at him from the door, but was stunned to silence when first a large skirt, then the tall, elegant form of Ayleth's mother swept through the door, casting a look back over her shoulder.

When she turned to face him, the sword didn't seem to shake her at all, instead she raised a single, dark eyebrow and regarded him thoughtfully.

"Lord Summit, I take it?" she said quietly, her voice a pleasant tinkle that seemed jarring after all Etan knew of her—she was an Adept, he reminded himself. A sorcerer. 

"Your Highness," he said politely, but didn't drop his sword.

She looked at it, then met his eyes again. "It is a crime to draw a weapon on the royal family in this Castle," she said dryly. "Perhaps, given your skill in fighting, you can trust your own ability to overcome me should it be necessary. I have put my life in your hands, arriving here without guards in order to ensure peace between us. So might you put the sword away so we can speak freely regarding your relationship with my daughter?"

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