Before Beauty Page 3
It hadn’t been an easy road. Ever’s father, always able to focus on the horizon, was like a statue with eyes that never wavered, or even closed for that matter. Ever didn’t have that kind of vision, the ability to block out all but the goal. Instead, he was inclined to notice the slight changes in seasons, or when a servant was acting differently because of an illness or suffering.
From a young age, he’d loved exploring the Fortress grounds. He found a peace, a quiet communion of the soul with the colossal citadel when he was deep in its sheltering greenery or underneath its stone arches. It took great effort for him to throw off the childhood desire to pause sometimes and simply exist in the secret places of his beloved home. It was somewhat painful to treat the servants like people other than his friends, particularly those who had been just that during his solitary childhood years. And yet, his father said, it was what he must do in order to protect it all from the destructive forces of those who would destroy such a paradise.
Little by little, under Rodrigue’s guidance, Ever gained the ability to focus as his father did. His strength, which had been unusual since he was a small child, was honed, and by the time he was a young man, he’d been wrought into the warrior prince not even his father could have dreamed of. The girl’s face had faded into little more than a bad memory by the time he was twenty-six years old. She only surfaced when he was tempted to feel guilt, which thanks to his father, wasn’t often. She had reappeared, however, the night his mother died.
Ever had been out riding his horse, training with some of the archers, when a distant figure waved him down from a great distance. As he approached, Ever could see Garin’s thin frame, and something in his stomach had turned uneasily. While he’d obeyed his father and cut sociable ties with most of the servants, he’d not been able to tear himself from Garin. Out of respect for his father, they didn’t flaunt their communication, however. If the steward was coming out to find him personally, something had to be wrong.
“Your Highness,” Garin had bowed in his saddle as he rode up to the men. “I think you might want to call today’s practice short. I have…a message for you.” Dismissing his men, Ever guided his horse over to walk beside Garin’s. The older man’s graying hair was messy, as if he’d pulled it back in a hurry, and his clothes, for once, were rumpled. “Your Highness…Ever,” he finally turned to the prince. “I’m afraid I am not quite obeying your father’s order, but I thought you should know before he called you.”
Ever gawked at the steward. While Garin often stretched boundaries and rules, he had never disobeyed King Rodrigue outright.
“Your mother has died,” Garin continued in a quiet voice. “You know she hasn’t felt well in weeks, and today she slipped away from us while she slept. Your father wanted me to wait until he could tell everyone, but I thought you should at least have time…” His voice faded, but Ever nodded unhappily. As much as Ever had become his father’s protégé, he still was unable to completely block feelings like Rodrigue. Garin had known he would need time to think before he was called before the entire court to hear the news.
Garin had gone after that and left Ever time to be alone before the courtiers were gathered for the official announcement. He struggled to pin down a name for the emotions that flooded him. That there were emotions was undeniable, and none of his father’s training could banish them. Many feelings swirled around in his mind as he thought. Strangely, what bothered him most, he finally decided, was that he was not sad.
Ever had spent years watching his servants interact with their families, and as a young child, had even interacted with them when his father wasn’t looking. The parents would call, and the children would respond with shrieks of delight, running to their parents for hugs and kisses. It had never been so with his family. His father had shown him affection in his own way throughout the years by preparing him to be the best king he knew how. Queen Louise, however, had never seemed to feel the maternal affection he saw in the servants and even the mothers of noble blood. Ever and the queen were amiable, and greeted one another always with respect and kindness, but there was never anything more. Guilt, he realized, was the emotion that ran through him. He felt guilty because he recognized very quickly that her death did not bring him pain. He would have felt more pain if Gigi had died.
On the night of his mother’s death, the girl’s face had visited him in his sleep for the first time in years. The pain in her eyes and her look of utter heartbreak broke his heart. He might have been able to ignore her in his wakeful hours, but at night, he was hers.
He wasn’t yet completely recovered from the queen’s death when his father had announced that it was time for him to pick a bride. All the eligible women and girls of proper status and bloodlines from the surrounding kingdoms were invited, and within a week, they had arrived at the steps of the Fortress, each aspiring to be the next princess of the most powerful kingdom in the land. Ever had watched them descend from their great coaches, each girl glittering more brightly than the one before her, decked with diamonds and pearls and silks.
“You look as if someone has just handed you a prison sentence,” Garin had teased him while they prepared.
“Any chance my father will rely on the Fortress tradition to choose one?” Ever had asked glumly. Garin’s smile vanished, and he shook his head.
“I doubt it. As much as your father loves the Fortress, there hasn’t been a queen chosen the old way in three generations. Your father will be evaluating the political strengths of each union, rather than the girl herself.” Ever could only nod. He’d suspected as much.
His mother had been a duchess from a neighboring country, and her marriage to his father had joined their armies as allies. It was a wise political match, to be sure. Still, Ever was decidedly against having the same relationship with his wife as King Rodrigue had fostered with his mother, one of polite greetings and farewells in passing. And yet, it seemed an unavoidable fate. Within an hour, he was presented to the court and was obligated to begin dancing.
The weather was fair, and the moon shined brightly on the balcony on which dozens of couples twirled in time alongside him. Fortunately for Ever, though there were many, many girls, he was a good dancer, and making conversation was easy for him. Beautiful faces and lovely smiles surrounded him, and sweet greetings and giggles filled his ears, blending together despite his attempts to remember which princess or noble lady belonged to which land. He’d had no idea as to how he would choose one, but as always, he worked to honor his father’s wishes. His confusion aside, the evening was fairing tolerably until he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a woman he more than recognized.
Princess Nevina was indeed a beauty, but not in the typical sense. Nothing about her was delicate. Her dress, made of black, silky feathers sewn together tightly with gold threads, was cut low to reveal her generous proportions. Her arms were also bare, and boasted sturdy muscles, not large, but rock solid. Her hair was dark like her dress, and her eyes were a surprising green against her bronze skin. Every move she made was lithe, and her eyes glowed brightly as she looked Ever up and down shrewdly before accepting the hand he’d automatically extended.
“Everard,” her low voice was smooth. “It has been a long while since we’ve met on such amiable terms. I think in our separation you might have outgrown your father.
“Perhaps so,” Ever’s voice sounded strange in his own ears, tight. He had not expected the Tumenian princess to be among the invited guests that night. As they began the dance, he dared an accusatory glance at Garin, who shook his head ever so slightly. That meant his father had invited her. Had he lost his mind?
The princess of Tumen and the prince of Destin had not last parted on pleasant terms. Introduced as young children, as most of the royal children were at this ball or that tournament, they had gotten to know one another well enough. Nevina was unlike the other children, however, in that the moment Ever had laid eyes on her, he’d realized she had a deep strength akin to his own.
He’d been seven then. As they got older, not only did he train himself to resist her powers, but to even mute them as well. They didn’t see each other often, as Tumen’s continuous push for influence among the surrounding nations strained its relationship with Destin. It wasn’t until they were eleven that the two young royals met again, and much to Nevina’s outrage, not only did Ever stop her attempts at tormenting him, he’d stopped her attempts at tormenting anyone else at the gathering as well.
Their encounters had been sporadic after that. When he was a young man, diplomats had begun to report that Tumen had given up its ambitious goals, and desired nothing more than peace, but Ever was skeptical. Even if her father was seeking to give up his ancestors’ dark power in order to obtain peaceful relations, Ever never doubted for a moment that the princess had every intention of keeping and using those powers to boost Tumen’s strength, with or without her father’s blessing. Only recently, her schemes had been interrupted by an unexpected arrival.
“Come now, Prince,” Nevina gave a little laugh, jolting him out of memories and back to the present. “Let bygones be bygones. Our kingdoms have grown beyond their conflicts, have they not?”
“I certainly hope so,” Ever responded curtly. He doubted it, however, as he watched the gold fire dance around her green eyes.
“Then dance with me as you would a woman who might actually deserve you.” She drew herself closer to him.
Ever’s heart beat even faster as he tried to keep a chivalrous distance between them, looking desperately for his father over her shoulder as they turned.
“I hear things have changed in Tumen.” Ever tried conversing again, desperate to keep her from continually pressing her body against his. It was distracting, and he could see people beginning to notice. Court gossip was inevitable, but this was one tryst he did not want gossiped about.
“If you are referring to the birth of my brother, then yes.” Her eyes tightened just enough for him to see the gold fire roar in spite of her calm appearance.
“I’m sure there are many men desirous of your hand.” Ever’s voice was polite, but he made sure Nevina didn’t miss his words’ significance. “You have much to offer.”
“Pray tell then,” the princess purred, “why exactly am I here?”
“Sire!” A small voice interrupted their spin. Sending up a prayer of thanks, Ever stopped dancing and released the princess so he could turn and talk to the boy who suddenly stood beside them. It was inappropriate behavior for a servant, but the boy was young, and Ever was grateful for the break in the conversation.
Before he could appropriately reprimand the boy, however, Nevina had reached down and slapped him across the cheek. Ever couldn’t keep the indignation from his face as he turned to look at her.
“You dare touch my servant?” His voice carried loudly, and for once, he didn’t care. The music stopped as everyone watched.
“Prince Everard!” She gaped back. “His impertinence was an insult to me and my kingdom. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be you. In my country, our servants know their place!”
“I do not care how you abuse your useless Chiens! My people are in the service of the Fortress, and you will not touch them!”
“So this is the strength you boast of, you who are revered far and wide.” Her voice had suddenly become cool and quiet, and somehow, even more unnerving. “And yet, you do not have enough control over your own to allow you a single dance with me. Your Fortress is weakening, Everard Perrin Auguste Fortier.”
Her mouth had curved up in a strange smile, and her eyes were nearly closed as she spoke. Ever had realized in that moment that she had been waiting for this, the opportunity to test and push him. She wanted his kingdom, and was searching for any chance to challenge him for it. This revelation had infuriated him even more.
“Get out of my home. Leave my kingdom, and do not return,” Ever had growled.
“Oh, we will be leaving.” Nevina’s captain of the guard was suddenly at her side, glaring at him. Nevina’s golden flames blazed even more brightly as her captain spoke. “We cannot, however, allow this insult to our sovereign to go unchallenged.”
“Soon,” Nevina’s voice had become a purr once again, “as you watch your men fall, Everard, remember who it was that caused the bloodshed. Know that it was your own weakness and cowardice that was your undoing.”
Ever had gritted his teeth as she then waved her hand dismissively.
“Let’s take our leave of this place, Captain. We will be back soon enough.” With that they’d turned, Nevina’s skinny Chien girl hobbling along behind them as quickly as she could.
And that was where it had all begun. Within an hour, the guests had been dismissed, none of them announced as his bride. For that, Ever had been grateful, but he’d been given little time to revel. He was immediately called to his father’s study to choose spies, run through battle scenarios, and where they had agreed to break the army into two camps, one on the mountain and one in the valley. It was on that eve that King Rodrigue had insisted they have no communication between the camps before they engaged their enemy from the north.
“Father, there is one thing I don’t understand.” Ever had hesitated before returning to his chambers when they were through. “Why was she even invited? Was I supposed to ask for her hand in marriage?”
His father had sighed. “It was a foolish hope on my part. Our relations have been better these past few years. I believed we could forge a union between our powers that would prevent future wars of this sort.”
“But their power is not like ours.” Ever had frowned. “It’s one of deception and darkness. The Fortress would never abide that sort of queen.”
“Everard,” his father had fixed his gaze on him in a strange way, “I will be honest with you. Where I once felt the strength of the Fortress run through my blood, there is emptiness now. I do not feel its direction anymore. It is up to us now more than ever to protect our home in these strange times.”
It had been on that night that Ever had noticed the extreme dullness of the fire in his father’s eyes, the slight trembling of his arms and hands. And yet, he had remained silent.
Now Rodrigue was dead. And as Ever stared into the casket in which his father lay, he could see nothing but the face of the girl.
CHAPTER THREE
Stronger than Wine
Find Solomon for me,” Garin instructed one of the servant girls as she ran past him.
As far as any guest was concerned, the coronation ceremony was going splendidly. The aromas of the seven course feast were wafting out of the kitchens, filling the halls with the smells of wild boar, aged cheeses, and spiced stews. Candles lit every corner of the Fortress, making it as bright as day. Wine flowed freely, making the guests even merrier as they awaited the coronation of their beloved prince. Unfortunately, Garin had the feeling that the guests weren’t the only ones enjoying the drinks tonight.
He wound his way through the guests as he quietly searched for Ever. It shouldn’t be so hard to locate the man who was an hour away from being crowned king. Garin was thankful that none of the guests seemed to suspect anything. Even before they had begun to partake of the drinks, their faces had been alight with the hopes and dreams that rested on Ever’s shoulders.
King Rodrigue had been a good king by most standards, and Garin had sworn his loyalty to him without question, just as he had done with Rodrigue’s father, and his father before him, and their fathers before them. But Everard was different. Even those who knew little of the incredible power that flowed through the prince knew he was special.
Ever had always been different. Though his father had missed the prince’
s birth, as he’d been off on a campaign against one of the border lords, Garin had been there. The queen’s labor had been difficult and long. Garin had done his best to keep the Fortress servants productive, though that was difficult with Louise’s screams echoing down the stone halls.
One moment, everything had been normal, but the moment the queen’s wails had stopped, a strange sensation had filled the air. The Fortress hadn’t felt like this on the day of Rodrigue’s birth, Garin recalled. In fact, Garin had not felt anything like this in a long, long time.
“What are you up to?” he’d muttered to the Fortress as he made his way to the queen’s chambers, squeezing between the serving girls as they ran to and fro with clean blankets and whatever else the midwife ordered. There had been no words in response, only an even stronger tugging at his heart, one that bid him to walk more quickly.
As soon as he stood outside her door, a chambermaid scurried out, nearly running right into him. “Begging your pardon, Master Garin,” she curtsied, “but I was just sent to find you. They think you should see this.”
Garin followed her into the room, the privacy curtains now closing the queen’s bed off from his view. The midwife had already expertly cleaned the child, and was swaddling him as Garin approached. No words had needed to be said. Garin nearly gasped as he’d drawn closer.
Inside each of the child’s eyes was a bright ring of blue fire against the gray irises, encircling the pupil. No monarch that Garin had seen, had ever been born with the strength of the Fortress so evident. Not like this.
What made it even more surprising was the weak fire Ever’s father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all held. And the queen had no fire at all. Garin had known immediately that this child had a purpose, one that the Fortress hadn’t given to a king in generations. He had also known it was his job to help the boy find that purpose, for Rodrigue, as passionate as he was, would be too blinded by his own agenda to value what truly set the child apart.