The Star Of Saree Page 3

  Pepca stomped one foot and stormed off. He wished to God that he could explain to her that he loved his family more than his crown and he was doing everything he could to make things better for his people, but he was too ashamed to tell her he no longer controlled Trimenia. Serban ruled and if he wanted to keep his family safe, he had no choice but to obey the baron’s wishes, at least for now. Perhaps uniting Danika and Henry would give him an ally in Warmark that could help him rid his kingdom of Serban once and for all. Hopefully, King Mayson could stand up to the baron, for he could not.

  Pepca had no intention of going to her room. She had found out what she needed to know. If she got caught, it would go badly for her, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Her father was a good man and she couldn’t reason why he was allowing the kingdom to be torn apart. Pepca loved her father, but someone had to do something.

  Dimitri was the only other person in the palace that had argued with her father about the state of affairs in Trimenia. Her older brother thought her nothing but a scatterbrained girl, but he saw Serban for the monster he was. The quarrel Dimitri and her father had a few months ago convinced her that her brother thought the same way she did. It was during dinner, and the discussion had been about the destruction of the rebel forces just south of Brova. Dimitri had made the mistake of saying that the Trimenian Royal Army should have been fighting with the rebels, not against them. The remark had earned him a stern talking-to from their father and a trip to Warmark to escort the Royal House of King Mayson to Brova for the formal announcement of Henry and Danika’s engagement. She was glad her brother would be coming home soon. He paid her little attention, but maybe she would have an ally in the palace, although she didn’t think Dimitri would be happy if he found out what she had been up to.

  Pepca didn’t care too much about reprisals from her family; she had always been the black sheep anyway. Danika had always been her mother and father’s favorite, with Dimitri a close second. At best, Pepca was tolerated, not only by her mother and father but by her siblings as well. Her mother was the worst. The queen had always made excuses for “Pepca’s unseemly behavior” to the other nobles of Trimenia. She had often heard her mother complaining of how ashamed she was of her youngest daughter and the humiliation she had to endure because of “Pepca’s ways.”

  Danika was their princess and that was just fine with Pepca. She had never wanted that kind of life for herself anyway. She would rather just live a simple life, roaming the mountains and forests of Trimenia, talking with the people, going to the Tinkers’ fairs and listening to their wonderful songs and stories. Danika could have the frilly gowns and jewelry, along with the responsibilities that came along with being royalty. She was just happy to be Pepca.

  Sometimes, she daydreamed of running away and spending her life free in the world without the stinging judgements of her family. The thing was, she couldn’t turn her back on the people of Trimenia, not now. If her father wouldn’t help them, then she would, even if it meant being branded a traitor. Besides, she wasn’t ready to leave Julian behind.

  The first time she had seen him, Pepca had been eleven years old. She had fallen in love with the boy the minute she laid eyes on him. Hired as a groom in the royal stables, Julian had been fifteen. An awkward little girl, she had never said anything to the beautiful boy. Even when she had grown older, Julian had tied her tongue tighter than the laces of a bodice every time she was in his presence, but of course it was Danika he had mooned over.

  The older princess was nearer his age and much more well-spoken than Pepca. Danika and the handsome groom had been very close for a time. They had kept their fondness for each other secret from the king and queen, knowing they would never approve, and they spent time together whenever Danika could sneak away from their mother’s watchful eye. Then a year ago, her snobbish sister had broken his heart. She told him it was a waste of time for them to continue to see each other because nothing could ever come of it; Julian was a commoner and they would never be allowed to be together. Pepca had refused to speak to her sister for months afterwards, much to the confusion of the king and queen.

  The stable-hand still loved Danika, in spite of her rudeness, and hoped to somehow be reunited with her. Danika was never one to turn down flattery and led Julian on just enough to keep a glimmer of hope alive in the young man. Pepca didn’t have the heart to tell him that her sister didn’t want anything to do with him, and had not even mentioned his name since she had spurned him.

  Danika might not have wanted Julian’s affection anymore, but Pepca did. He treated her like a little sister, but one day, she would make him see her as a woman no matter how long it took.

  As she approached the stables, Pepca took a deep breath and looked to see if anyone was watching. Edging along the structure’s wall, she slid through a side door and into the stable. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light before she could scan the large building.

  A moment later, she saw the handsome groom tending to one of the horses in a stall to the rear of the stable. Sighing heavily, Pepca’s heartbeat began to race as she studied the man she loved. Long wavy brown hair circled his perfect face and hung past his shoulders. Light brown eyes, an aquiline nose, and a strong chin dominated his features. Julian’s skin had been darkened by the sun and the harsh winds of Trimenia, yet it was unblemished and bore no scars. He was tall and thin, but it was easy to see the strength in the smooth contour of his muscles.

  The princess gave the little whistle he had taught her to signal her presence. Julian looked up from the horse he had been minding and looked in her direction. Seeing none of the other grooms nearby, she waved. Glancing over his shoulder, the stable-hand made his way to her. He led her to an empty stall and the two crouched down.

  “What did you find out, Pep?”

  Her lips tightened; she hated when he called her that.

  “The baron will be at the ball. Father just told me himself.”

  Julian nodded and put his hand on her shoulder, making her whole body tingle. “You are sure of this?” he whispered.

  “Yes. What are you planning, Julian? Don’t you think I should know since I’m involved now?”

  He gave her one of those sweet smiles that nearly drove her to madness, then mussed her hair like one would a little boy.

  “No, Pep. It’s best if you don’t, but with any luck, we will be rid of that devil Serban by the end of the ball.” Julian rose up and took a look around. “Now you should get back before anyone sees you down here. If I need you again, I will get word to you.”

  Pepca grabbed his arm. The threat against Serban had alarmed her. “You must be careful. The baron has many spies throughout the palace and the city. They have sniffed out every plot against him. I would not want to see any harm come to you, Julian.”

  He cupped her cheek and she felt her face get hot. “Don’t worry, girl. Ridding the land of that bastard is worth any risk.”

  She let go of his arm and stepped back. “Father is announcing Danika’s betrothal to Henry during the party… I thought you should know.”

  Julian lowered his head, but not before Pepca saw the hurt on his face.

  “Go now, Princess, please.”

  She backed away quietly and slipped out of the stable. Julian’s feelings were hurt but, he needed to know the truth. He couldn’t trust her sister anymore. If Danika found out he was with the rebels, she would report him to their father without a second thought. He had to know Danika was beyond his reach now. Pepca just didn’t understand why Julian couldn’t see Danika for what she was: a prissy elitist.

  Managing to get back to the courtyard without being seen, Pepca reluctantly creeped into the palace and hurried to her room with no one the wiser. She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, hoping her father had forgotten about the seamstress.

  The fine music drifted through the large ballroom and filled the ornate chamber with its pleasing melody. King Petru’s massive palace sat on a hill high above the
city of Brova. Pepca thought if the wind was right, the music emanating from the ancient palace might even wander down into the city below.

  Pulling at her gown, the slim princess struggled to keep the bust of her dress up. Her lack of a large bosom had caused an evening-long battle with her contrary attire, but the beauty of the grand ballroom almost made her forget her skirmish with the miserable garment. Her mother had outdone herself. The ballroom’s floor was tiled in the royal colors of burgundy, black, and gold, and silk bunting of the same colors had been draped from the walls and coiled up the banister of the staircase that led to the small gallery above. Flowers adorned each of the tables that had been carefully placed around the room so the guests could rest between dances. Pepca’s favorite thing in the whole room was the huge chandelier that that hung from the center of the ceiling. Its multitude of candles reflected so brightly off its long crystal beads, one would think the sun had decided to attend Danika’s party.

  The room was filled with her father’s guests all trying to make their way to the center of the room to congratulate her sister and Prince Henry. All the wealthy merchants from Brova and most of Trimenia’s nobles were in attendance, many trying to make the acquaintance of the King and Queen of Warmark.

  Henry’s father King Mayson was a brute of a man. He was tall and bald with a thick mustache that hung down the sides of his mouth. Queen Breeda was his opposite, short and petite. She was very pretty, but looked tired and bored with the whole affair.

  Pepca saw her father in the midst of it all, trying his best to fend off the greedier of his subjects from troubling the foreign monarch about trade agreements and the state of Warmark’s markets, but he was doing a poor job of it.

  Pepca had little interest in Danika’s future in-laws. It was the baron her eyes kept straying to. Alexis Serban stood near her father, his hands behind his back and a thin polite smile on his face. The nobleman was of average height and slim build, his shoulder-length black hair had been oiled and was tied back with a black ribbon. The baron looked no different than when she had seen him many years ago at Danika’s tenth birthday party. His skin was unusually light for a Trimenian, though he bore the regal features of the aristocracy: high cheekbones, a square jaw, and a strong aquiline nose. Pepca wished she could call him ugly, but the baron was a handsome man and carried himself with quiet confidence. Dressed in an open black coat with a silver vest beneath embroidered with gold thread, dark pants, and a pair of black boots polished to a high sheen, the baron cut a striking figure even surrounded by the other wealthy guests. Pepca thought he looked like a wolf in a room of sheep.

  It wasn’t his appearance that held her interest. It was those hooded eyes of his that had trapped her attention. Dark and sinister, they seemed to pull her into them with a mere glance.

  “Pepca, what are you doing back here against the wall? And look at your dress,” her mother said, gesturing to her gown. The queen’s shrill voice startled her. Pepca looked down and saw that a spot of gravy had found its way onto the black sash that held her burgundy dress snug around her waist. She had tried to eat sparingly at dinner precisely so this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. “Oh, and look at your hair,” her mother went on. “Can’t you keep yourself in order even for a few hours?”

  Pepca reached up and felt her hair. Two curly locks had come lose and fell to the sides of her face. “I tried, Mother. I never wear my hair like this. It is difficult to keep up.”

  “I swear by all the saints that you have the worst hair of any girl in the kingdom. It is a mystery to me how your brother and sister can have such fine hair and you have-have…this. I swear it is like the wool of a sheep.” The queen gestured at Pepca’s head. “And for the love of God, stop pulling at your gown. That seamstress and I are going to have a talk. Couldn’t she see you have nothing to hold this up?”

  “Zaria, what are you doing? We have guests to entertain.” Her father stepped up behind her mother as the queen battled Pepca’s hair.

  “Just look at your daughter, Petru. She has ruined her dress and her hair looks like a flock of birds fashioned it.”

  The king’s face was red and the lips were pressed together in a white slash. “Zaria, King Mayson and Queen Breeda are waiting for the dancing to begin and the wine is being served. Pepca’s hair is unimportant. You should be tending to our guests.”

  “She isn’t even trying to keep herself presentable, Petru. Just look at her sash.” Her mother grabbed her by the arm and Pepca instinctively pulled back. The queen let go and Pepca stumbled back into one of the servants carrying a tray of freshly poured wine glasses. The collision caused the man to violently sway and the entire tray crashed to the floor. Pepca covered her mouth with her hands as she watched the wine spread across the tile.

  Queen Zaria’s face was a mask of fury. The music stopped and the whole room gawked at her mishap.

  “Continue with the music,” the king yelled at the hushed musicians. The music started up and all but a few of the guests resumed their conversations, many giggling at her blunder. The queen wasn’t laughing, though. Her mother looked mortified, her expression was a mix of rage and embarrassment. “Deal with her,” Zaria whispered heatedly to the king as she briskly glided away from the accident.

  Her father pulled her away from the mess as two servants began to clean up the broken glass and wine from the tiled floor. He led her through the circle of guests and placed her against the wall under the ballroom’s gallery on the opposite side of the room. “Stay here and try to keep out of trouble.”

  “I am sorry, Father. I didn’t mean…”

  He cut her off with a raised finger. “I know, but to avoid any other calamities, I want you to stay back here and watch everyone dance. In a little while, you can go to your room.”

  She nodded and said no more. The king shook his head, looking very disappointed, and returned to his guests. She found one of the chairs that had been strategically placed around the room’s walls and sat on her hands. Her mother was angry, but after Julian and the rebels did whatever they were going to do, the queen would forget all about her mistake. Pepca just wondered how they were planning to rid the kingdom of Serban, and when it was going to happen. One thing she did know was if it disrupted the party, her mother would be livid.

  Nearly half an hour had passed. Everyone was dancing and enjoying the wine her father had imported from Belanos. Pepca had fixated on her soon to be brother in-law. Danika had kept him on the dance floor since the waltzing had begun. Prince Henry was a perfect match for Danika. Tall and broad-shouldered, the handsome Prince of Warmark would please Danika greatly with his square jaw and butter-colored hair. The blue-eyed prince and her sister would make terribly pretty children, she thought.

  “I see you have found a way to anger Mother again. I am surprised she didn’t stand you in the corner.”

  Pepca jumped up and hugged her brother. Dimitri looked just like their father, except he was heavier of build and there was a small scar near his left eye from a riding accident when he was small. Dimitri also chose to keep his dark hair cropped close and his face clean-shaven. He pushed her back and squeezed her chin gently, swiveling her head back and forth. “I think you might be getting a little prettier, but it is hard to tell.”

  She smiled up at him, delighted he had taken time to speak with her. “I’m so glad you’re back. How was Warmark?”

  “Dreadful. King Mayson is an ill-tempered ass and the food was simply awful.”

  Pepca giggled at her brother’s coarse description of their father’s guest of honor. “What about Prince Henry?” she asked.

  “Danika will love him. I believe his mother has fawned over him his whole life. His sister, Princess Ada, is harder than Henry. She and his younger brother Prince Eldin were left to rule Warmark while the king and queen are away. I would say because of his looks, Prince Henry has been pampered all his life, much like someone else we know.”

  Pepca’s mouth twisted into a smirk. She knew full well w
ho Dimitri was referring to.

  “He is intelligent, courteous, and mannerly. I am sure he will use the proper etiquette and decorum when he petitions Danika for a shag on their wedding night.”

  Pepca snorted then laughed at her brother’s crude jest, though her riotous amusement was loud enough to draw some repugnant looks from the nearby guests.

  Dimitri’s express grew serious and he stepped closer to her. “Has anything changed since I have been gone?”

  She knew what he meant. “No, things have only grown worse.”

  Dimitri took a sip from his wine glass and gazed at his father. “Maybe now that I have returned, I can speak with Father again. Someone must get through to him before we have another open revolt on our hands. For now, you stay here and try to keep out of trouble.” He squeezed her ear and made his way back out into the crowd.

  Pepca looked at the uncomfortable chair and sighed. Flopping down in it, she began to swing her legs in time with the music.

  “Does the dancing bore you, Your Highness?”

  It took a moment to realize that the question had been directed at her. She had been daydreaming about Julian and was not use to being addressed by her rank. Not even the palace staff used her title. She looked up to find Baron Serban’s dark eyes fixated on her. Feeling her heart begin to race, Pepca struggled to find her voice. “No-no, it’s quite fine…my lord. I’m enjoying the music,” she stammered.

  The corner of his mouth rose in a roguish grin and he raised his wine glass. “I am glad to hear someone is having a good time. I personally find these formal gathering tedious and stale.”

  She nodded, happy her gown was hiding the fact that her legs had begun to shake.