Chapter Eleven

Lizzie, 15 years old

"Look, Philip! Did you see that little one? That's called a hummingbird. They're very fast and small, but they can be quite ferocious if they think you'll endanger their nests."

The toddler holding onto her fingers with his chubby fist said nothing in response as he looked around the garden with wide-eyed delight. Not that her little brother said much, anyway, much to her father's frustration. Philip was not an idiot, despite what King Alfred shouted in his angry tirades at their mother. His bright, intelligent eyes seemed to see and absorb nearly everything, and already at nearly two years old he could recognize some of the frequently used words in his storybooks, pointing them out when asked.

He just never talked.

His short little legs stumbled on the loose pebbles, and Lizzie had to hold him up by the arm as he regained his balance. "Careful, Phil. We don't want to rip your new trousers."

A bee circled around their heads. Philip pointed at it and looked up at her with wide, inquisitive eyes.

"It's a bee. They make the honey that you like to have on your breakfast, and they also help the trees in the garden make fruit. Just be careful; they'll sting you if they think you might hurt them. Oh, look! There's a thrush bird over there!" She stopped and knelt down so that her eyes were at Philip's level. She pointed to a nearby tree. "Do you see that little bird with the spotted chest? They're one of my favorites."

She left out the fact that they had earned that distinction because they reminded her of a certain blonde haired, blue-eyed prince in Kysta. She rarely spoke of him outside the privacy of her journal, afraid that if she mentioned her friendship in the open it would become tainted by her father's ridicule and criticisms. The only interests or relationships he approved of were ones that he felt he could leverage for Nedra's profit; anything else was worthy only to be ground under his heel.

Freddy was the one bright spot in her life, and she refused to give him up. Audrey, her lady-in-waiting, was the only one who knew about their ongoing friendship, as she was responsible for sending and receiving their letters.

The sound of yelling filtered from the open windows of the library on the other side of the small garden. Lizzie flinched, filling with empathy for the poor soul on the receiving end of King Alfred's wrath. A tutor, most likely, as her sister Belinda would have been just finishing her lesson at that time of day.

A low, feminine voice joined, her mother's soothing tone recognizable even at a distance. Garbled words followed, growing in volume and intensity until Lizzie heard the sound of a hard slap, and then a cry of pain.

Lizzie's jaw clenched as she steered her brother further into the garden and away from the sound. She forced a smile onto her face. "Come on, Philip. Let's see if we can find those bunnies I was telling you about."

Later that evening, as she watched her mother stand at her father's side and greet their guests for dinner, the powder and rouge on Queen Donella's face barely concealing the dark bruise on her cheek, Lizzie made a promise to herself.

I am never getting married.

Lizzie clasped her hands together in her lap, squeezing her fingers so hard they were nearly numb as she tried to keep her growing horror and dismay from her face.

"Of course, as you are still both underage, the betrothal will be in place for a minimum of five years before your marriage," Alfred explained. "I expect that, during that time, you will be making every effort to bring him under your influence. It shouldn't be too difficult—your looks are passable enough, and the boy is about as daft and soft as they come. Once you're married, Kysta will be as good as mine."

She swallowed nervously and took a deep breath before speaking. "I don't want to marry Prince Frederick."

Alfred's eyes flashed, causing her to involuntarily flinch. "It doesn't matter what you want , Eliza. Your value to this country lies in the connections we can form through you. Kysta's geographical location makes them a coveted trade partner, and a marriage alliance will secure that partnership indefinitely."

"But—"

He raised his hand, and she squeezed her eyes shut. His fingers stopped a fraction of an inch from her face, and rather than strike her, he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up. "You will do as you're told. The betrothal agreement is already approved. If you do something to jeopardize this, I can promise you won't like the consequences. Now," his voice changed from a threatening growl to a soft, almost tender tone so quickly that it was frightening, a clear demonstration of the reason why no one outside the castle was aware of the state of affairs within its walls. "Go upstairs and get ready. I want you to look your best for our formal announcement."

"I don't understand why you're so upset. It's not as if you didn't know this day was coming." Belinda sat on the edge of Lizzie's bed, hugging one of the pillows to her chest as Lizzie paced up and down the length of the room. "We might as well have had ‘Sell to the highest bidder' stamped on our foreheads from the moment we were born."

Lizzie wrung her hands together in front of her. "I know, but…it's Freddy."

Belinda's nose wrinkled. "Freddy?"

"Prince Frederick."

"What does that have to do with anything? At least he's your age. You should be grateful Father isn't trying to arrange a marriage with the duke of Altens." Belinda shuddered dramatically. "Is it wrong for me to be glad that his estate was nearly destroyed by that storm? At least it took him out of the running."

"But Freddy is…I mean, we…" Lizzie struggled to put her fears into words.

"Spit it out, Liza."

"He's my friend." Lizzie's hands were sweating with nerves, and she wiped them on the front of her skirt. "We've been friends for years."

"I fail to see the problem." Belinda cocked her head to the side. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not if we're going to be married! " Lizzie tossed her hands in the air. "Other than you, he's the only friend that I have. I can't marry him."

"Why not?"

She finally stopped moving, wrapping her arms around her middle and whispering as she voiced her greatest fear. "Because my heart won't be able to handle it when he turns out to be like Father."

Belinda frowned. "Maybe he won't be. He seems nice enough."

"I'm sure that's what Mother thought about Father, too. He puts on a show for the public, but he's not the same when it's just us. Freddy is my best friend. I can't love him and then lose him like that."

Her older sister was silent for a long time with her forehead wrinkled and lips pressed together in deep thought.

"What if you didn't love him?" she finally asked.

The question caught Lizzie off-guard. "But I do love him; he's my best friend."

Belinda tossed the pillow aside and leaned forward. "No, I mean, what if you didn't love him when you married him? If it was purely a business transaction, like Father says, then it wouldn't matter whether he welcomed you with open arms or an open hand. The less you feel, the less you'll hurt, right?"

"Right." She nodded slowly.

"What if I told you that I knew a way to make it so that you don't feel anything ?"

Lizzie took a deep breath. "Tell me more."