Chapter 9

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



For Justen the world of Fairingham was fascinating. The mountains, the white stone castle, the sounds that seemed so different. He was used to the forest and the river, boats and harbors, fish and the coast. His own castle was full of light, with wide openningss that let in the breeze and the sound of the river. The hallways were wide.

But here in Fairingham, there was dear, cattle, sheep and birds on the table. The hallways were narrow and wove through the castle like a maze, winding around up and down stairs, with doors on either side.

Still he didn’t expect to find himself lost. Roaming the castle, uncertain to which doors to open or close. As he went through one, he found himself in another hallway with rooms and no people, then at another stairway the roamed both up and down.

But he wasn’t afraid.

Maybe it was the beauty of the castle construction. Maybe it was the adventure.

His only ... concern was that Luther would kill him for wondering off again. He’d been listening this time, he would swear it. He just hadn’t noticed when or if Luther had turned off.

Or he had.

One would think that stairways would somewhere besides to rooms. Up and down.

He couldn’t quite remember wheat floor he’d started on or what floor he was on. Luther was always telling him he had to pay attention. At all times.

He was a prince.

Before, it had seemed like the title carried with it the fantastic. Prince of Darbenton.

But now he thought of the Forest of Dreams, of the battle of arrows, and of the one that pierced Luther.

It was dark on the stairs, with the only light a few flickering torches that were lit only at certain levels.

Luther was going to kill him.

When Justen heard the padding of feet coming down, he reached for his sword ...

Only to find that he’d forgotten it.

For that, Luther would surely kill him.

He moved up, toward the light.

And there it happened. The one who came down—the one he’d gone up to meet—was the lay he’d been looking for since that night under the castle wall.

The lady in the red cloak.

She wore it now, with her blond hair spilling around her shoulders.

She stopped on the stair above him, startled. She obviously hadn’t been paying attention, either. A hand fluttered at her neck.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“You are the man from the kitchens,” she said, looking him up and down in the now bold, flickering light. “But you’re not a peasant.”

“No.”

“You’re the prince ... ” her questioning gaze

He bowed, as he’d been taught in courtly gestures. “At your service, my lady.”

“You’re ... you’re spying on us.”

“What? Why would I spy?”

“You come dressed as a peasant and now you’re wondering the halls ...”

“I wasn’t wondering, I was lost.”

“That’s a likely story.”

“It’s a true one. If you could show me where I might find my companion.”

She shook her head. “You were dressed as a peasant. Explain yourself.”

“It was a long journey,” he said, as he started to evade, then realized the futility of it. “A dangerous journey. No one had been able to get through to Fairingham for months. Do you blame us for being cautious, my lady?”

“Prince’s don’t spy ... they have servants and armies to send forth.”

He shrugged. “I am a prince, but I don’t not hold claim to the throne. I am the second son of Charles, King of Darbenton. My brother Albert is the one of the promise.”

“The second son?” she asked. “So they send you on diplomatic missions.”

“This is my first. They’ve never asked anything important of me before,” he frowned over it. “It’s only something I’ve come to realize recently. The life I lived as second son, training to lead the army ... was almost a life of play compared to ... this.”

He ran a hand down his official Darbenton royal garb.

“I am the third daughter of Dustiny,” she said with a small smile. “I think I understand.”

In the flickering light of the torch, Stephanie studied the second son of Charles. He was handsome, his features as beautiful now as they had been the day she’d found him in the kitchens. His eyes were so blue, his cheek muscles so defined. And his lips ...

She shook her head and cautioned herself. Her father had come the night before and cautioned her. Be careful, he’d said, about what you tell them.

We don’t know how much they know ... how close we came, or have come, to betraying the alliances with Darbenton.

It would be wise to be prudent in the thoughts about the man.

The Prince.

She held out her hand. “Princess Stephanie.”

Justen took her hand and held it to his lips. “A true lady of beauty,” he said. “I am Justen.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

“Do you know then, that I have looked for you since I saw you in your red cloak, high above me in the white wall?”

“No—I had not realized...”

“You were an image of beauty then, so far away. You have captured my mind and held it captive. But now as you stand before me, I have tell you that your beauty eclipses the image I knew before. If only I could see you in the clarity of the sunlight.”

Stephanie pulled back her hand. “Your words are so ... poetic.”

“But are the words ... are they welcome?”

“That has yet to be decided.”

But she smiled. She couldn’t help it. His eyes ... she thought ... it was his eyes.

“Could you at least show me where I could find companion?”

She laughed and turned on the stairs. “This way.”



As they came out of the stairway and turned the corner, Justen saw Luther coming toward him. As he feared, his companion was ... upset.

“Foul, irresponsible ...” Luther muttered. “Do you know how long I have been looking for you?”

Was it a wonder, Justen thought, that he had tuned the man out?

“Ah—“

”We—you were expected to meet with the king’s advisors. Or did you forget.”

“I didn’t forget. I was lost.”

Luther’s gaze took in Stephanie. “A likely story.”

“But true. Ah, Luther—“ Justen said again, afraid the knight would tumble into another tirade. “This is the Princess Stephanie, the third daughter of Dustiny.”

“The princess?”

“He was, indeed, lost, my Lord,” Stephanie told him. “And the castle hallways could be a bit confusing, to the uninitiated.”

“Quite, my lady.”

He focused his attention on Justen. “The king and his advisors await, my prince.”

“Yes, ah ... Luther, could you give me a moment?”

Clearly unhappy, Luther took a step back, but his gaze was sharp and direct. “A moment, my Lord.”

Justen turned to Stephanie. “The light is clearer now, but I still wish to walk with you in the sunlight.”

“The gardens of Fairingham are beautiful.”

“Then ... how shall I find you?”

She smiled and stepped back, with a look toward Luther. “We shall just have to wait and see.”


HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!





Return to The Ruby Ring