The Forgotten Princess (Forgotten Royals)

Chapter Seventeen

The seasons blended together as hope bled out of me. When the light of summer dimmed into the darkness of autumn, hopelessness had its grip on me. A whole year had passed and nothing had changed.

If this were a game of chess, it would have been the slowest game ever played. I wished I could be at court, to at least attempt aiding Richard's efforts to gain permission for our marriage. Instead, I spent the year staying with various relatives and struggling to take care of my sister. Richard's letters still arrived, and he promised Prince Hal seemed amiable to his request, but nothing happened. Two days after Christmas, on my nineteenth birthday, I flung myself on my bed and cried from sheer frustration. The few times I saw Richard were never enough, and it was exhausting to wait for something that might never happen.

"You would think the world had ended," Catrin said.

Ashamed of my behavior, I pulled myself up into a sitting position. "I know that I'm behaving like a fool."

She gave a firm nod as she continued mending my kirtle. "If you want that York so much, marry him. It would be better than another year of you moping and a cold, empty bed."

I flushed at the implication. "It's not that simple."

"I'm going to be honest with you, my lady." Catrin stopped sewing. "I don't think the King cares enough about you to dissolve the marriage. He's probably forgotten you."

"Then why won't he let my brothers go?" I asked.

"Because they're boys," she said. "And I doubt he cares that much about them at this point. You told me yourself that your York said the so-called Prince of Wales sounds like he will release them when he becomes king."

"Prince Hal might do that, but King Henry wouldn't."

She resumed mending and shook her head. "Then marry some old man who wouldn't upset your King. But you can't keep living this way. No young man is worth the best years of your life."

I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of admitting that she was right. I couldn't keep living like a ghost.

***

When Richard arrived at my aunt's in time for the new year, I met him with a resolution of steel. Once more, I felt ashamed that I had to wear a borrowed crimson houppelande of my aunt's. Even the silver bracelet on my wrist was a loan from her coffers. A visiting merchant's daughter was dressed finer. It shouldn't matter. I tried reminding myself that pride was a sin. But Richard stared at me as if I were Venus herself. Though I tried not to play a fool, his muscular body and familiar smile left me flustered. After two years of dancing around, flirting and growing closer, the flames of desire had grown hotter. When he kissed my hand in greeting, I never wanted him to stop. His stubble rubbed against my skin and I had to stop myself from kissing him in a proper way. If we weren't surrounded by people, I might have been tempted to sin with him before the marriage.

Once the initial exhilaration of seeing him subsided, I noticed something off. His smile seemed a little distant, reminding me of how I would perform at court. Worry began gnawing at my stomach and all I wanted was to speak with him. But there was no opportunity as men approached him, asking for news of the court.

At least Aunt Joan made sure we were seated next to each other. It was harder to converse in her smaller castle than it was in the vast royal court. Loud chatter of distant relatives filled the room and a lute player kept up the most frustrating melody, so badly out of tune that I wanted to hit him over the head with his own instrument. Of course, I was rather frustrated because all I wished to be alone with Richard. But even if I was in a better temper, this man's music belonged in one of the circles of hell.