Chapter 8

Angeline sat comfortably on her cushioned window seat, but her brother appeared extraordinarily uneasy. Truthfully, he looked almost apish—his enormous frame hunched over as he trudged back and forth across the great hall floor, grasping the invitation they had received to Sebastian’s wedding. Every so often, he shook it in the air.

She had seen enough of his ridiculous behavior. “You pace like a fool, Talman.”

He stopped in the middle of the room and glared at her. “Never call me a fool, Angeline. Why are you not angry? Your intended was stolen from your grasp, yet you act as if you have no cares.”

“You display enough anger for both of us.” She laughed, cuddling a cup of her favorite mulled cider. “Your behavior is unwarranted. Any day now, Father will hand over his throne, and soon you shall have your child bride. A man of your age should be elated by the prospects. After all, you are one and forty. A full year older than the girl’s father. You do not deserve such a young, fresh wicket.”

Talman stood tall and puffed up his chest. Any moment, Angeline expected him to tighten his fists and beat on it.

“I have waited a long while for my Basilian Princess,” he hissed. “No one deserves her more.”

Angeline stood and met him face to face. “Forgive me.” She cupped a hand to his rough cheek, then gave it a light smack. “I have no doubt you are ready to burst. However, you must wait until Sebastian and his whore are celebrated for every realm to see, then wait another full moon for his sister, Estelle’s rite. A full moon later, you shall finally have your bride. It is no wonder you pace. I should not chide.”

He studied her from head to toe. “Be grateful you are a woman. It pains a man more than you will ever understand to stifle his needs.”

She smiled in the most sympathetic manner she could muster. “So, you have truly never . . .” She twirled a finger through the air, directing it toward his lower extremities. “Dallied?”

His head drew back. “Never.”

“Hmm . . .” She grinned, patted his chest, and sipped her cider.

He had lied to her before, and she assumed he had again, but it mattered not. He was of little importance, yet his wedding plans were another issue entirely.

“What are you scheming, sister?” He folded his muscular arms. “I know you well.”

He was so mistaken. If he knew her at all, he would run far away and never return.

She giggled. “I cannot fool you, can I?”

The warm fire beckoned her, so she positioned herself in front of it. “I wish to plan the most elaborate wedding the realms have ever seen, for you, dear brother. After the rites, we should hold a masquerade ball. I cannot recall the last time the kingdoms have held such an affair. What say you?”

Smiling, he moved beside her. “A masquerade?”

“Yes. I can see I have intrigued you. We shall require all who attend to wear a mask and the finest attire. Wine will flow and food will be plenty, and while our guests celebrate, you can steal away with your prize and finally attain full manhood. You shall satisfy your loins listening to the sounds of blissful laughter and gaiety.” She touched a hand to her heart. “Though it is unlikely you will be aware. Not with sweet little Becca in your arms.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do not speak of her as if she is a child. She has attained full womanhood and will appreciate my affections.”

“For an inexperienced man, you seem quite self-assured.” She pursed her lips and waited for him to lash out.

His face reddened, and his chest heaved. “You enjoy tormenting me.” Heavy breaths puffed from his nose. “You always have.”

She tittered. He knew not of real torment. Not yet anyway. “Oh, Talman. You are much too sensitive. I love you, and it so happens, I am fond of Becca. Much more so than her damnable brother.”

Talman eyed her warily, then tentatively nodded. “If only we could make this happen sooner. Three months feels like a lifetime.”

“All is set in motion. Waiting a short while longer should not be difficult. In the meanwhile, go to Father. Have him abdicate his throne, while his mind is right. Otherwise, only his death will pass it on to you, and it could be years before he takes his last breath.”

Talman rested a hand on the mantel. “Why do you appear to be more concerned over me than yourself? It is unlike you.”

She sighed and frowned, hoping to be convincing. “I have little else to occupy my time now that Sebastian has wed another. It seems I must wait for Tesher of Oros to become of age. Like you, I fear I shall be old and undesirable before I ever lay with a man.”

“Old and undesirable?” Again, he puffed up. A poor attempt at proving himself worthy.

She heartily laughed. “I am teasing you, Talman. Although in all truthfulness, considering your declining age, I suggest you act quickly, planting your seed.” Her mind spun. So much to do in order to put all of her plans in motion. “Has Varlan spoke of going to Oros any time soon? He should make his claim on Princess Pasha, since she has come of age.”

“Yesterday, I told him the same. If he does not move quickly, I fear Lord Alavar will stake claim to her. He is close to her father and has been given a great deal of land. All he needs now is a bride.”

She held a hand to her heart and sighed. “Love abounds.”

Talman gaped at her. “You are not in your right mind. I fear Sebastian’s rejection has harmed you more than you let on.” He gently touched her arm. “Worry not, sister. Once I am king, I shall see to it you are paired with someone who will give you the status you deserve. If you wish it to be Prince Tesher, I shall make it so.”

She offered him her warmest smile. “Thank you. You have always been good to me.” She put her back to him, fearing he might see through her. “And you wonder why I want to honor you with a glorious wedding celebration. Is my love for you not reason enough?”

His hand rested on her back. “Make your plans. A masquerade pleases me. I shall send word to Becca so she is aware. I am certain Queen Helen has plans of her own.”

Angeline grunted. “That woman orchestrates everything in Basilia. I doubt King Roland relieves himself without her approval.”

Talman shook his head and chuckled. “Forget not that one day soon, I shall call her Mother.”

“God help you.” Angeline slowly turned to face him. “Our kingdoms have been intertwined for such a long while, I often wonder why we even bother going from realm to realm to seek our mates. Our blood has mixed to the degree that I could just as well marry you or Varlan, and it would matter not.”

His expression soured. “Speak not of such things. It is a sacrilege.”

Footsteps in the hallway turned their heads.

Angeline scowled. “Speaking of sacrilege,” she muttered.

Her seventeen-year-old sister, Carmela, approached. The black-haired bitch whose birth had deprived Angeline of her mother.

“Be kind,” Talman said from the side of his mouth.

Carmela stood beside Angeline, close to the fire. “I am freezing.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

“Go south,” Angeline said dryly.

Carmela giggled. “I cannot. I have no one to accompany me.”

Talman leered at Angeline, then put himself between her and Carmela. “Varlan may be journeying to Oros soon. You should join him. He would appreciate the company.”

Angeline clapped her hands. “That is a splendid idea. Go with Varlan and warm yourself.” Nothing would please Angeline more. She wanted Carmela as far away from her as possible.

Carmela nervously twisted her fingers together. “I would love to go. Yet, the thought of being anywhere near Prince Tesher makes me uneasy.”

“You had best keep yourself away from him.” Angeline glared at her.

“Yes,” Talman added. “Tesher is not your concern. He is to be paired with Angeline.”

“What?” Carmela’s face lost all its color. A sight that brought Angeline extreme pleasure. “He is but a boy. And you—”

“Do not say something you may regret.” Angeline kept her eyes glued to Carmela’s. “Put your sights elsewhere. Perhaps in the direction of Issa. The princes there are truer to your caliber.”

The girl’s body slumped and her eyes pooled with tears. “Why are you so cruel? You know we cannot align ourselves with the royal house of Issa. They are pagans and morally corrupt.”

“As I said, truer to your caliber.”

Carmela burst into a sob and rushed from the room. Talman reached out a hand as if he intended to stop her, but said nothing.

Satisfied, Angeline poured herself more cider.

Within mere moments, Talman hovered over her. “That was uncalled for, Angeline.”

“Do not admonish me. I say what no one else is willing to utter.” She pressed a finger into his chest. “You and I both know she is not fully our sister. Mother strayed and because of it, she died.”

“So put your hate on Mother, not Carmela. A child cannot choose who gives it life. We share the same mother, and that counts for something.”

“Mother is dead. I find it easier to despise someone living.” She downed a large amount of the warm beverage. “I have plans to make, and I intend to enlist Lydia to help me. At least our dear cousin, Darius, married someone I adore. She never complains and does all I ask of her.”

Talman rubbed his stubbled chin, eyeing her closely. “Show her kindness, Angeline. She is not strong like you, so of course she would never challenge your requests.”

“I will never harm the dear woman,” she scoffed. “Worry not. Write to your intended and let her know of our plans, and I shall take care of everything else.” She waved him away.

Her brother let out a long breath, then left her alone.

All this talk of love and marriage brought about feelings she relished. A familiar ache tugged deep inside her and spread warmth to her most sacred parts.

Enlisting Lydia’s help would have to wait. For the time being, Angeline needed Darius more.