The Reign of Trees Page 7

  Illianah leaned back in the other direction and felt her heart tighten. She was not strong enough to see Donovan jovial. He was her ideal in every way. Groomed. Beautiful. Gentle. Kind. Yet, he had a power and a freedom she longed for. She should have stayed in her bedchamber and spared herself this misery.

  “Such threats, Princess,” he replied. “But there is nothing that could destroy how elated I am tonight.”

  “Ah, but of course,” she said. “You are elated from causing my people pain.”

  Donovan’s smile lessened, but did not diminish. “I never like to see suffering and pain, Illianah. But this victory does prosper my people, and I do delight in that.” He leaned closer, his enormous smile reappearing. “And to be truthful, I must admit that defeating your father and your husband brings me great satisfaction.”

  “As it will bring me great satisfaction to see the day when my father and my husband bring their revenge upon you and your kingdom.”

  Her statement got the desired result; Donovan lost his giddy expression. He brought his face within a foot of hers and his eyes searched hers. “Will that really bring you joy, Princess?”

  He was much too close to her—so much so that she could smell wine on his breath. She worried that others would take notice of this liaison. “Yes,” she lied. “Very much so.”

  He did not move. He did not even flinch. His eyes were steady upon on hers. It felt as if he was peering into the very depths of her soul. She wanted to shut him out, to not allow him to search through the thoughts of her heart, but she knew it was too late. He had already seen. “I think not,” he whispered. The right corner of his mouth lifted and he looked satisfied.

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “I am right,” he again whispered. Then he seemed to remember his surroundings and recognize that his entire court was watching this intimate exchange he was having with another man’s wife. He righted himself and sat tall in his seat.

  Illianah waited until after the food was served—giving her time to collect her thoughts—before she said anything else to Donovan. “I do think it is in poor taste,” she finally said, “to force your prisoner to attend a celebration of battle against her own kingdom. Rubbing my nose in your victory only lessons it for you. You rely on feeling triumph through diminishing me, which shows that your victory was superficial and meaningless.”

  Donovan did not show any change in emotion as he brought his wine goblet to his mouth. He took a sip and then turned toward her with a smile upon his lips. “That is not why I asked you to attend. I have marked your absence these past days and merely wanted to enjoy the presence of your company.”

  “Then in that case, I shall cease conversing with you.”

  His chest shook as if he was laughing. He shook his head, gave her his large, toothy grin, and said, “I will still be privileged with your presence, even if you remain silent. In fact, it might be preferable that way.”

  She wanted to hit him. Or toss her drink on him. She turned her head away and kept her eyes on the wall, waiting for the anger to subside, but the noise of the room seemed to be escalating, distracting her from her attempt to shun Donovan. Illianah slowly cast her eyes around the table. The more the lords and ladies ate and drank, the louder they became. They were victorious. Triumphant. She would no longer suffer to be part of this. “I do not belong here,” she said to him, although her voice was loud enough for the king to hear as well. “I have lost my appetite.” She tossed her napkin on to the table and stood before the prince or any of the other men could stand in her honor. As she stormed from the great hall, she did not blink away the tears. She did not care if they saw her cry. She should be crying. This was her kingdom’s loss. Her loss.

  Just as she reached the stairs to her tower, someone called out after her. It was Donovan. He had come after her? She was infuriated. “What are you at, My Lord? Why do you make me suffer so?”

  She expected to see his face still jubilant, taunting her with his victory over Burchess; instead he looked blank. But not penitent. “I am at nothing. I simply hoped to enjoy your company. To forget, momentarily, that we are slated to be enemies.”

  “I cannot forget. You took me from my home. From my life. Every time you try to make me feel welcome here—make me feel as if I chose to come be a part of Deltegra—it mocks me. You think that you can tempt me with fine cloths and remembrances of adoration from your mother? It will not work. I am no more a part of your life—or this castle—than a penniless beggar on the street. I do not belong here. I do not belong with you.”

  She turned to resume her march up the stairs, but she heard footsteps behind her. He grabbed her arm and forced her to turn back to him. “Illianah, it was not I who brought you here, remember? I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation, for us both. I merely thought ….” he took a deep breath and looked up toward the heavens, like he was praying for guidance. He sighed and looked back at her. “I only wanted one night to … forget. To forget who we are and what we have become.”

  “We might be able to forget momentarily, but what about when we wake in the morning, Donovan? It would be worse then. We are not friends. We can never be friends. It is best that we remember our places. We are on opposing sides. Nothing will change that.”

  His jaw pulsed and for a moment he looked sad, but when he spoke, his words were full of anger. “That is exactly why we are at war. You and your family are unyielding; unchanging. You have declared us your enemies for life. With that mentality, there will never be peace. Did you ever think, Princess, of the influence you could have when you are back in the castles of Burchess? If you think of us—Deltegra—as friendly, kind people, the wars may very well cease. Your recommendation of our honor might be enough to soften your father’s heart. That is something that has not happened in five generations. Within you, Illianah, lies power. Why do you not see that?”

  She laughed at him. How else could she respond? “Why do you not see that I have no power? I do not even have a voice. They will not listen to me. They have never listened to me.”

  As she said those words, her throat grew so tight it felt like she was being strangled. Her tightly restricted throat kept her from crying out, yet so great was the pain from keeping the emotion dammed within her that she almost crumpled into a heap on the floor.

  His face softened, as if he understood her pain. “I listen to you, Princess. How is it that they will not?”

  She tried to swallow, but that choke-hold upon her throat would not allow it. She could not answer him.

  “You know we are not vicious. We defend our kingdom, our freedom, our ability to prosper. With your influence, Burchess and Deltegra could reconcile.”

  “I see no evidence of your … goodness.”

  “But Illianah, you know it: in your heart.” His words were forceful, yet at the same time, he was begging for her affirmation.

  Even though his words reached her core with the power of truth, she would not admit it. “I know no such thing.”

  She turned and proceeded up half-a-dozen stairs before he again called out to her. “You should wear the black gown tomorrow,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked with sharp anger. She did not need him telling her what she should wear.

  “Because you live as if you are mourning. You live as if you are already dead.”

  ***

  She did not wear the black; in fact, she did not give a moment’s consideration to her appearance. Trying to gain favor with the court of Deltegra was pointless, and in fact, was harmful to Illianah’s soul. She did not want Donovan looking on her with any amount of kinship.

  After requesting an audience with the king, Illianah was granted permission to enter the throne room. She had hoped Donovan would not be in the throne room this morning, but as fate seemed to ever be against her, the prince was sitting on his throne as well. Illianah did not look in his direction, nor did she acknowledge him when she addressed the king.

  “I have come to inquire o
f you, My Lord,” she said while she still walked toward the king. “The Battle at Laencia is over. What does this mean in regards to my release? I desire to go home to Burchess.”

  King Henrick smiled kindly and said, “Yes, My Lady, we were just discussing this very matter but an hour ago.” He looked at the prince to indicate who participated in the earlier discussion, but Illianah still would not acknowledge that Donovan was in the room.

  “Prince Henrick desires you to be released to your kingdom, but unfortunately Illianah, I cannot allow that.”

  Inadvertently, she looked in Donovan’s direction. He was slumped in his chair, not sitting stately as he should have been. The position of his body indicated that he was unhappy with his defeat. Illianah’s breath caught within her chest. Was he hoping for her to leave so he could be free of her? Or was he being considerate of her happiness? Both thoughts were equally troubling. Donovan did not look at her, but rather fixed his eyes upon something on the wall to his right. His emotions were completely concealed by a façade of indifference. She again struggled to fill her chest with enough air to survive the next minute, and then looked back at the king.

  “I cannot reward Burchess’s defeat with the return of a prisoner,” King Henrick said. “They must win you back, one way or another. They disregarded our earlier demands, thinking they could defeat us on the battlefield. I think they were surprised that they were not able to walk across our border after trampling a few soldiers under their mighty feet. Now that they realize Deltegra is a force worth reckoning, I think they will reconsider our earlier demands for your freedom.”

  Anger began to boil underneath her skin. The Deltegrans were not a force worth reckoning. The only reason they had defeated Burchess was because the entire Deltegran army was at the border. They had left the other regions of their country naked and exposed. King Henrick had essentially cheated. She was about to loose her tongue and accuse the king of being duplicitous, but Donovan moved in his chair, causing her to shift her focus. He now leaned toward his father, but Donovan’s eyes were eagerly on hers. He shook his head ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably. It was as if he read the anger upon her cheeks and knew what she was about to say. And what she was about to say in defiance to the king would indicate that she knew too much to go back to her warrior husband, who would be hoping to gain knowledge of how to conquer Deltegra.

  As she reconsidered her thoughtless near-tirade on King Henrick, he continued speaking, apparently not noticing the silent exchange with his son. “General Montague is drafting a letter to your father as we speak, renewing our offer for your freedom. Within a few days, we will have their answer and then, My Lady, we will know your fate.”

  “May I write as well?” she asked. In the early hours of the morning, as Illianah had fretfully tossed in bed, she had considered the grave error of her last ploy to win freedom. She had hoped to charm Donovan into letting her go, but that had done nothing other than cause grievance to her own heart. Instead, she needed to focus her charms on her own husband. Perhaps if he was reminded of her allure, he would be more eager to win her back.

  “But of course, Princess. You are free to write as many letters as you wish,” the king said.

  Illianah nodded graciously at the king and again ignored Donovan. She went back to her room and waited until her lady’s maid brought fresh ink and parchment.

  As Illianah penned the letter to Leif, her hand hesitated many times before she was able to write the words she thought needed to be said. And many times, her cheeks flared in embarrassment as the words found their way onto her letter. Leif had enjoyed her during their first week of marriage—of that she was certain. He needed to remember those moments. She told him how she missed having his fingers caress her back while she tried to sleep. She missed feeling his large hands rest upon the small of her waist. She mentioned his kisses, and then finished the letter by saying that she regretted complaining about his new beard growth and said that to feel his beard upon her skin again would bring her the greatest delight.

  Her hand quivered as she sealed the letter. She should not be writing such things. She should not even be thinking such things, but she was desperate to get out of Donovan’s castle. She felt as if the welfare of her eternal soul depended on this letter, therefore justifying the depravity of its contents.

  She sighed deeply and set the letter aside. Hope filled her heart. Leif would soften upon reading her letter and then he would persuade her father to agree to King Henrick’s demands. She would be home soon. She took a deep breath, waiting for the excitement to fill her chest. But oddly, the only emotion that washed over her was one of sadness.

  Chapter Seven

  A week quickly passed with Illianah doing her best to fill her heart with hopeful thoughts about leaving Deltegra. As she was served mutton stew for supper, she thought to herself, “This will be the last time I ever have to eat this flavorless fair.” As she awoke to gray skies and a cold, damp earth, she said, “This will be the last time I ever have to endure a Deltegran rainstorm.” Illianah hoped that if she was able to force thoughts of leaving this godforsaken kingdom into her mind constantly, excitement would soon become embedded in her emotions. But when it did not, she surmised that she was merely being cautious with her heart, as she was still uncertain that her father would agree to King Henrick’s demands, whatever those may be.

  She kept her distance from Donovan, but even being in the same room with him for brief moments proved to be vexing. He seemed more jovial than normal. His eyes danced with what she could only describe as a look of delightful mischief. He smiled anytime he saw her, but then he would quickly look away, almost as if he was laughing at a joke he was not willing to share with her. She wanted to accuse him of mocking her, as that seemed to be his intent, but she did not want to acknowledge that his behavior was affecting her.

  At last, a letter came from Burchess. She was in the solar, sitting by the fire, as it seemed to be the only place in the entire castle that did not feel damp from yesterday’s rainstorm. Illianah eagerly broke apart the seal and began to read the letter, momentarily forgetting the disaster that befell her last time she read her private letter in front of Donovan.

  Princess Illianah of Burchess,

  Illianah paused at the formal greeting. It hardly seemed the way for a husband to address his wife.

  As your husband, it is my place and my duty to censure you for your last letter. You would do well to learn to hold your tongue and speak only as is appropriate. The intimacies you mentioned are not to be spoken of, Princess Illianah. They are private and regarded by me as sacred. What would have happened if your letter would have been placed in the hands of spies? It doth shame me greatly. One might expect such a letter from an enchantresses at Arugua, but not from the daughter of King Gregory. However, be assured that he will never know of your immoral words. I will shield him from that pain on the condition that you will avow to never again write such wickedness.

  I sympathize that you wish greatly to return to Burchess. Remember that this pain caused to you by King Henrick will be revisited on his own country twofold. His demands are impossible to meet and there will be no chance for negotiating your return. The war will be long and we know of the difficulty that lies ahead of us; but until we conquer the forces of Deltegra, which we will, you must remain at Andoradda.

  Yours in marriage,

  Prince Harrington of Burchess

  Illianah sat still, except she knew she was blinking fiercely, as if she could make the shock dissipate. How dare he admonish her? Should he not have been flattered?

  She realized her mouth was hanging agape. She tried to find composure, but it seemed to be unavailable to her in this situation. However, looking like a confounded buffoon was not really an issue: she shared this room with Donovan and her two female attendants—hardly a crowd worth impressing.

  “Well you must be rather proud of yourself, Prince Henrick,” she said haughtily.

  “Yes, I am, thank you,” h
e replied without even looking up from the book he was reading.

  She disregarded his apparent disinterest in having a conversation with her and spat words at him again. “Your failure to create a reasonable exchange for your prisoner has resulted in Burchess declaring war upon your kingdom. They intend to fight until you surrender.”

  “Yes,” he said, still not looking up. “It is truly terrifying to think of, especially since they cannot gain entrance into our border.”

  “You should be terrified. Prince Harrington will not stop until you have been conquered. He will bring your kingdom to its knees. And then he will return me to my throne. The justice will be sure, My Lord. You will regret starting a war with my kingdom. Your silly plot to capture me will be your ruin.”

  Her words were finally enough to give reason for Donovan to close his book. “I must correct you, My Lady, lest you think too highly of yourself. You are a prisoner of happenstance. Bringing you to Deltegra was never desired, nor was it part of a ‘plot.’”

  She hated to be reminded of the shock she had seen upon his face the day she was brought captive to the castle. True, capturing her might not have been planned. “But your hasty actions show a lack of judgment,” she said. “My father might have been willing to forgive you had you not dug yourself a deeper hole.”

  “I am not looking for forgiveness from your father. Or anyone. I have done no wrong.”

  “Done no wrong?” She could not help but to raise her voice; it felt as if something was growing within her chest and she needed to give it room to expand or she may very well burst. “This entire war falls upon you and your father. You are greedy, and … selfish, and …cruel.”

  Donovan leaned forward in his chair. His eyes looked on her with cool contempt. “That is rather hypocritical coming from someone who plays with men’s hearts in order to get her way.”

  Again, Illianah’s mouth dropped. How dare he? Such disrespect!