Chapter 26

I t was early morning when they arrived at Myst Hall after nearly two days of hard riding, little food, and almost no sleep. Exhaustion hit Phillip hard as they rode up the dirt road to the castle with the sleeping princess in the cart in tow. His gut clenched into a tight knot as he faced the castle. He hadn’t seen it since he was six years old.

He didn’t know what to expect.

Someone must have sounded the alarm that there were visitors arriving for he saw several people exiting the castle. As they neared, he made out his parents as well as King Stephan and Queen Eleanor. His nerves were on high alert as dread coiled tight in his chest, making it ache.

Phillip came to a halt and dismounted from the horse pulling the cart. He inhaled a deep breath to calm his rattling nerves as he approached the four waiting royals, all with expectant looks on their faces. All but Queen Eleanor whose face was pinched with worry and fear.

Halting in front of them all, he bowed low to first his parents then Rosamund’s.

“Your majesties,” he greeted as he rose to his full height.

Stephan’s gaze scanned the other riders and paused on the two riderless horses—one Phillip’s and one Rosamund’s.

“Where is my daughter?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, Phillip gestured toward the cart. Both the king and queen hurried over. As soon as they peered inside, the queen cried out, a sob choking her throat. The king stood at the side of the cart looking down at his sleeping daughter, his face devoid of color.

“What happened to her?”

“It was the sleeping curse—” Phillip began.

“I know it was the sleeping curse,” Stephan snapped.

He turned his glowering gaze on him. The queen openly wept. Phillip’s mother, Queen Adele, hurried to her side to comfort her by placing an arm around her shoulders. She whispered in her ear, trying to calm her.

“I spent nearly eighteen years making sure no rose or thorn would harm my daughter and yet here she sleeps.” Stephan pointed to the cart. “I mean to know how this happened. Where has she been? With you all this time?”

Phillip shifted from one foot to the other, his hand clenched into a tight fist as he tried to decide how to answer. While true she hadn’t been with him since the moment she escaped Myst Hall, it was also true she had traveled with him for the last several days.

“Well? The truth, boy!”

“King Stephan, enough of this.” Reginald, his father, stepped up next to him. His large presence was a reassuring buffer between him and Rosamund’s enraged father.

Phillip noticed Jeffrey and Charles had both dismounted and stood by their horses waiting to see how things were going to play out. Both remained mute, their faces devoid of emotion.

“It’s clear they have been riding for days to reach us,” Reginald said. “Give the boy a moment to collect his thoughts and tell us the story.”

There was no mistaking the fury on Stephan’s face as he glared at Phillip. His father gave him a nudge of encouragement.

“I met Rosamund in the Mystwood Forest,” Phillip began. “She traveled alone. I feared for her safety, so I invited her to journey with me. I had no idea of her true identity at first. I thought she was merely a peasant girl lost in the woods.

“It was the dark faery who compelled us by a sinister spell she cast on both of us. She pushed us together and toward a cave where there were enormous rosebushes with thorns. I tried to stop her from touching the thorn.” He paused as he looked at the cart where Rosamund slumbered. “But the power of the spell was too great.”

Silence descended between them. The only sound that of the weeping queen. Phillip looked at his mother whose face was creased with her own sorrow.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Phillip said.

Stephan looked down at his daughter. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“She will be taken to her chamber. We will find a way to break the curse, even if I have to send for the Queen of the Celestial Court herself to tell me how,” he said.

Phillip moved toward the cart but Stephan held up a hand to stop him. He halted mid-step.

“No. You will go with your parents to your own chambers. You will stay away from my daughter. I will allow you rest after your journey. However, in the morn, I expect the three of you to be gone from Myst Hall and never return.”

“Stephan!” Eleanor said on a breath, surprise evident in her tone. “The betrothal—”

“We will not discuss it here or now,” he snapped. Then his gaze cut to Phillip and Reginald. “The betrothal is hereby broken. There will be no wedding.”

Phillip stared at the king then peered at the cart where she slumbered. His gut clenched into a tight knot. It was difficult for him to grasp their betrothal was broken just like that.

He glanced at his father to see his jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking along the edge. Though he tried to hide his ire, it was clear he was furious with the turn of events.

“If that is your decision, Stephan, so be it. We will pack our belongings and depart at dawn.” He motioned for his wife to join them.

Reluctantly, Adele left Eleanor’s side and joined the two of them. No more words were exchanged as they all headed inside the castle. Phillip stole a glance over his shoulder to see Jeffrey and Charles still standing by their horses. No doubt the two of them wondering what they should do next. Return to Haven Castle or remain until morning and depart with them. Phillip had nothing to offer them. He dared not speak with King Stephan for he didn’t wish to tempt his wrath further.

Exhaustion pounded through him as he followed his parents through the halls of the castle and up the stairs where they entered a large bedchamber that was big enough for the three of them. The living area hosted a chaise near the large fireplace. On the other side of the chaise, two oversized chairs with a small table between them. The floor was covered in a garnet plush rug. Several candelabras were lit in the room, giving it a warm inviting glow.

Phillip made for the chaise near the fireplace and immediately collapsed onto it. He was bone weary from all the traveling and near faint from not having eaten a full meal in days. As soon as the door was closed, sealing them inside the chamber away from prying eyes and listening ears, his father spoke.

“We should leave at once. I don’t think we wait until morning.”

“Nonsense,” his mother said. “Can’t you see Phillip is exhausted? And what of Jeffrey and Charles? Someone should see to it they can stay here tonight. Furthermore, I don’t think we should leave so soon.”

Phillip cracked open an eye to see his mother standing with her hands on her hips in defiance of his father, whose face was crimson with ire.

“Why should we stay? Stephan called off the wedding and broke faith with us.”

“Stephan is grieving for his daughter and so is Eleanor,” Adele said. “He made an emotional decision. We must think this through with a cool head, my love. Just because he wants us to leave by the morning doesn’t mean we should.”

“Have you gone mad, my wife? We cannot stay here.”

“Shush, Reginald.” Then she bustled over to Phillip with a swish of her skirts. She lowered herself to the ground, the material of her gown billowing out around her as she reached for him. “My dear, there has to be more to the story than what you told us.”

Phillip shook his head from side to side. “There isn’t, Mother.”

“Poppycock.” She stood straight, her fists once again on her hips. “I’m going to ring for tea and refreshments and then you’re going to tell us exactly what happened.”

“Mother—”

“I won’t hear any objections from either you or your father. Understood?”

“Adele—”

“I mean that,” she said cutting off his father.

If he hadn’t been so weary, he would have laughed. When his mother made up her mind to do something, there was no stopping her. She was like a battering ram and stronger willed than him or his father. Sheer determination sparkled in her eyes. He knew that look and saw it many times as a boy.

Though what she intended to do with the truth once she had it, he didn’t know.

It seemed both he and Rosamund got their wish—their wedding was called off. So, why, then did he have the stinging sensation of disappointment?

His mother was a patient woman. She waited while he stuffed himself with a late breakfast. His father had long retired to their bed chamber to nap or brood. She poured a cup of tea for herself, one for him, and then sat in the chair by the cold fireplace. She held the cup and saucer, giving him a pointed look over the top of it.

“Well?”

He heaved a sigh. “Where shall I begin, Mother?”

“At the beginning. How and where did you meet the princess?”

Reaching for his cup of tea, he took a sip of the strong brew. He wished it was something stronger. He wished he were anywhere else but here under the piercing gaze of his mother.

He began his story with the night he slipped out of the castle with a packed bag. Jeffrey had promised to escort him to meet the princess the following morning and he was going to do all within his power to avoid the girl and the marriage.

It took all night and the next day to reach the Mystwood Forest. When night had fallen, he searched for shelter and happened upon the cottage in the woods. Much to his surprise, someone else was already there.

“It was the princess,” he said. “At the time, I didn’t know who she was. She merely told me her name was Rose. She shared her bread with me. There was a loft where she slept that night while I took the floor beside the fire.”

He smiled, recalling how she had doted on him and made sure he was comfortable before darting back up the stairs. The way she gathered the cushions and created a makeshift bed for him endeared her to him.

“She didn’t know who you were, either, I gather,” his mother said.

“No. I gave her a false name. I assumed she was a peasant girl and if she knew I was a prince, then perhaps she would not treat me the same.”

“The same?” she asked.

“We were able to behave as ourselves without the stuffiness of court politics or formalities.”

His mother took a sip of her tea, hiding a knowing smile behind her cup. Though she tried to hide it, he saw. He knew she was forming her own assessment of the situation and making assumptions. It was exactly why he did not want to tell her the truth.

“Go on,” she urged.

He picked up the tale with their breakfast in the tavern and how Myst Hall soldiers questioned them. How he had lied to them because her face had paled when she saw them. He was aware they were after her yet something inside him kept him from handing her over to them. If he had, things would have ended right there.

“That was when I realized she was no more a peasant than me. She told me she was the Princess of Myst and that she refused to return home.” He lifted his gaze from his tea and looked at his mother. “Because she did not want to marry.”

“It seems you both had that in common, then.”

Nodding, he said, “I should have told her right then who I was.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I feared what she would do when she found out.”

“But she did find out?” she asked.

“She did.”

It was then he told her about the old hag in the cabin, the map to the treasure, how Jeffrey and Charles found them on the road and Jeffrey addressed him as prince. How angry Rosamund was when she discovered the truth about him.

“It was then I knew we should all go to Myst Hall. That we should return the princess home,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” The queen was genuinely interested in his answer.

“It is difficult to explain.” He took a sip of tea, stalling.

She waited, patiently, as she refilled her cup and dropped in one cube of sugar, stirred, and then sipped. Her expectant gaze was still on him.

“It was as though there was some driving force pushing us together onward. Deeper into the forest. We both felt it and we were both powerless to resist.”

He finished telling her the rest of the story about the dragon’s cave, the treasure that wasn’t there and, finally, the appearance of Queen Rowena. She used her dark magic to conjure the rosebushes and force Rosamund to prick her finger. When he fell silent, he sipped his tea and leaned back in the chair, the exhaustion pounding through him.

His mother had a funny look on her face. One he had seen numerous times as she inspected him with a sort of tranquil calm. He had the distinct feeling her mind was at work with some scheming plan or thought.

“What, Mother?”

She was silent a long moment, then very carefully placed the tea cup on the table in front of her. She sat back in the chair, her hands flat in her lap.

“You’re in love with the princess.”

Phillip was so stunned by her declaration, he sat straight in the chair, his hands on his knees as he leaned toward her.

“I never said that.”

“No, but you are.” She gave him a knowing smile.

He huffed out a breath. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

And yet, when he thought of Rosamund, a warmth spread through him. There was something about her that he found attractive and sweet. When she looked at him and gave him her smile, his heart swelled. There was a light of life and vitality within her lovely emerald eyes. She was brave, and kind, and charming, and—

Bollocks.

He was in love with her.

“Phillip, my darling, you’ve spent a good portion of your youth chasing women who amused you. When you had your fill of them, you discarded them. You broke their hearts. But Rosamund is different. She is more than a passing fancy. You’ll never admit it, though you should. Perhaps you don’t want to admit it because you were betrothed and forced into a marriage neither of you wanted. And here you are, pining away for her while she is in an eternal slumber.”

Much as he didn’t want to admit it, his mother was right. He rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the sudden headache that had taken up residence there.

“What is your point, Mother?”

“My point is you need to find a way to break the curse and see if she feels the same way about you.”

He dropped his hand to look at her and saw a profound resolve shining brightly in her eyes. His heart raced as he sat a little straighter and scooted to the edge of the cushion to lean toward his mother.

“Whatever you’re scheming, you can stop it,” he said.

A brow lifted. “Scheming? My dear, if the princess loves you and you love her, then I see no reason to call off the wedding.” Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. “I must speak with Queen Eleanor at once.”

With her skirts bustling, she hurried to the door.

He knew exactly where she was going. With a groan, he leaned back into the chair once again.