I apologize for the super-duper-ultra late update. I'm sorry. I have been very busy! Anyways, it's finally here!
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This chapter is dedicated to LandShark! Thank you so much for taking the time to help me with the medieval dialog!!! and for checking the overall flow of my story :):)
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_“It’s the perfect time to intervene! Your Majesty,” argued Wolsey, the king’s chief advisor and High Chancellor of Bellerania.
“Remember the last time you said that?” refuted King Damain, referring to the war of conquest that happened six years ago. “Even with their monarchs dead, we lost half our army to the Esyrians and our people were plagued by poverty and illness.”
Under normal circumstances, the King’s Circle met once a month to discuss new policies and address the people’s concern. However, King Damian had called for a sudden meeting with the members of the King’s Circle to deliberate the newly proposed trade agreement.
King Edward of Esyria had acted boldly when he altered the original trade agreement that had been in place since the war of conquest. He increased the prices of raw materials and natural resources which Esyria sold to Bellerania, confident that Bellerania would have no choice but to agree to the proposed changes due to their lack of resources. In addition, even though the quota of imported goods remained unchanged, taxes placed on imported Belleranian goods were doubled to encourage the people of Esyria to buy local products.
“That happened because we acted too late. A mistake that must not be repeated, Your Majesty,” emphasised Wolsey as he stared intently into the king’s eyes.
“No. I agree with His Majesty. We couldn’t defeat Esyria while they were weakened and grieving the death of their monarchs. What makes you think we can beat them if we attacked again?” questioned a lord.
“If we had launched an attack before King Edward of Esyria invaded us, we might have had a chance to conquer Esyria. Then we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now, Lord Bordex,” Wolsey retaliated as he placed both his clenched fists atop the polished rectangular table in the king’s study.
He made a sweeping movement with his hand to indicate the impeding problems Bellerania had been facing for the past ten years due to lack of resources.
“Sir Wolsey is partially correct, Your Majesty. Now that Esyria has found a secure foothold, they will use every opportunity to bully us into signing agreements that benefit them. We’ll suffer severe consequences if we do not extend our territory to acquire richly blessed lands that can ensure our self-sufficiency,” stated another lord while he leaned forward in his wooden chair.
“I agree. We can’t keep depending on Esyria for resources, Your Majesty,” reasoned Chris, chief knight commander of the King’s Army.
“However,” Chris paused and locked eyes with Wolsey. “Now is not the perfect time for an invasion, Sir Wolsey.”
“First and foremost, it’s predictable. Once we reject the agreement, Esyria will anticipate an attack.”
Chris managed to capture the attention of all the members. Everybody, including the king, was listening raptly and hanging on to his every word. Chris spoke with confidence and wisdom beyond his years.
“Even though they will be severely outnumbered and our army is faster, stronger and well-equipped, the kingdom is strategic in terms of defence. The inner city of Esyria is a natural fortress. It is easy to defend and difficult to conquer. From their elevated position, we can easily be spotted and are vulnerable,” he continued while making eye contact with the other members.
“Secondly, war is indeed inevitable. I have a plan that can increase our chances. However, it involves an elaborate plan and travelling around the cliff, which will require vigorous training. Moreover, our army needs time to train and prepare the new recruits.” Chris waited patiently as the members contemplated his words.
The king’s study was huge. At one end of the study stood the king’s personal table and the discussion table was positioned at the opposite end. The walls were lined with bookshelves and tapestries of hunters. The only window was behind the king’s table; hence, the study was always dark and musty. Soft murmurs filled the king’s study as the members discussed the pros and cons of his suggestion.
Raised voices and strong arguments were exchanged as the members sought to share their opinion. However, once the decision was made, the King’s Circle was expected to show full support in public.
“I will sign the trade agreement and we will launch an invasion within eight months,” boomed King Damian at the end of the meeting.
Everybody but Sir Wolsey nodded and agreed to the compromise.
“Captain, could you kindly stay back for a moment? I would like to have a word with you,” King Damian said while the other members exited the king’s study.
“Have a seat.”
Damian sat in his red cushioned seat by his personal table and Chris took the seat opposite the king.
“Is eight months enough for you to prepare the troops?”
“It’s more than enough, uncle.”
Chris was practically a part of the royal family. His parents were best friends with Catherine’s parents. Since young, in the absence of other lords and knights, he always referred to the monarchs as uncle and aunty.
“Good. Very good,” beamed the king.
“You are one of the best Chief Knight Commander Bellerania has ever had, Chris,” continued Damian, addressing his daughter’s best friend by his given name. “I want you to know that –”
Damain paused, carefully considering his choice of words. While waiting, Chris’s eyes fell on a stack of messy documents and books that were usually arranged in alphabetical order on the right corner of the desk. He was wondering what happened when the king interrupted his thoughts.
“Catherine,” Damian answered Chris’s unspoken question. “My daughter gets her temper from me.”
Without elaborating, Damian continued.
“I give you permission to court my daughter,” he said, getting straight to the point.
“Wh-at?” replied Chris, completely stunned by the king’s direct approach.
“Catherine and you have known each other since birth. I have to admit, sometimes, I think you know my daughter more than she knows herself. You are wise, patient, caring and strong. Thus being a perfect husband. Moreover, you are loyal to this kingdom and experienced with making decisions for the good of the people. I think you will make a good king.”
“I would very much like you to be my son-in-law,” continued Damian without giving Chris a moment to assimilate the information.
“Tha-nk y-ou. I’m ho-nour-ed,” stuttered Chris. His confidence had evaporated as he stood speechless before his best friend’s father.
“You do love my daughter, don’t you, Chris?” asked Damian, oblivious to Chris’s discomfort.
“I do, uncle.”
“Then why has it taken you so long to make a move?”
“Er…I – ” spluttered Chris uncomfortably as he recalled the time he tried to confess his feelings for his Catherine in the sparring courts.
The memory of his own confession and proposal to Queen Leila resurfaced in the king’s mind. Damian chuckled sympathetically at Chris.
“My daughter can be slightly,” Damian paused as he searched for the appropriate word to describe his wife and eldest daughter, “dense.”
Chris laughed and nodded in agreement.
“She gets that from her mother,” Damian chuckled. “So make it obvious.”
* * *
Slowing Lightning to a halt, Catherine slid gracefully off her saddle. The gentle breeze had dried her damp brown hair and blew it across her face, tickling her nose and cheeks. Grinning childishly, Catherine watched in amusement as Jase blinked rapidly while a gust of wind tousled his messy blonde hair.
“Where are we?” Jase asked curiously as he dismounted. His voice was sure and steady.
“Your highness,” he added as an afterthought.
The title felt strange coming from his mouth. As a young prince in Esyria, Jase grew up being referred to as ‘your highness.’ After abdicating, much to King Edward’s annoyance, he never uttered the phrase, not to Nathan, nor to his uncle or aunty.
Catherine smiled inwardly at his mistake. Even though she had just met the man, coming from Jase, the lack of title felt oddly refreshing and natural. She noted that Jase stood with levelled gaze and held himself with an air of confidence. Unlike other commoners, he never bowed his head or lowered his eyes when addressing her.
“Is this the part where you push me off the cliff for defeating you during selections?” Jase teased jokingly and was rewarded with the sound of Catherine’s soothing laughter.
Be careful Princess. When the sun sets I will have you head-over-heels for me, thought Jase cockily.
“Come,” Catherine said.
Leaving their horses behind, the pair hiked upwards. Relying on his charisma and charm, Jase decided to proceed with his grandmother’s plan.
“What was bothering you, Princess?” Jase asked smoothly and offered Catherine a reassuring smile.
“Ready to be laden with the burden of a princess?” she sighed without meeting his gaze.
Jase chuckled without humour at the irony of the question.
You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘burden’. Do you want to be laden with the burden of an orphaned prince? Your father killed my father and here you are talking to me about burdens. Try taking on the burden of revenge, princess, thought Jase darkly.
Instead, he smiled and nodded for her to continue.
“You don’t happen to be a rebel prince or a snooty nobleman in disguise right?” Catherine asked jestingly.
Jase froze at her question. His pulse raced and his jaw tensed as he waited for her to reveal his true identity.
How did she find out?
“I hate foreign princes and condescending noblemen,” Catherine continued. She was oblivious to his reaction and blissfully unaware that she had hit the nail on the head regarding Jase’s identity.
“My mother is insistent that I marry before my seventeenth birthday. She has a long list of foreign princes and noblemen lined up for me. And then there’s the ball. How am I supposed to fall in love with an unknown someone at a ball?” Catherine ranted on.
Jase breathe a sigh of relief when he realised that he had not been found out.
Catherine was on a roll. All the worries and frustrations she kept within her flowed out of her easily as she confided in Jase.
“And my father appears to be sympathetic. He has no right to sympathize with me! He agreed to the stupid ball!”
Disgusted with Catherine’s words, Jase stifled a yawn and quickly moulded his features to one of interest and concern.
First impressions are misleading after all. You are nothing more than a spoilt brat who is ungrateful for all the blessings you have, thought Jase bitterly as he pushed images of his dead parents out of his mind.
Jase was usually a good judge of character. He wondered what he saw in the girl at the apothecary. The kind and compassionate girl had vanished and in her place was a whining princess. Staring at Catherine, the anger and bloodlust returned along with the painful memory of the cold blooded murder.
King Damian, you will pay for murdering my parents not only with your life, but with the happiness of your daughter. She will fall for me and I will crush her heart into a million pieces. After I am finished with her, there will be no hope of repair.
“And how dare he ruin my friendship with Chris? And with a mere sentence, he managed to break the bond of friendship I had with Chris. I can’t even confide in him anymore without thoughts of something more than friendship eating away at my mind. And I hate my parents. I can’t –”
Catherine stopped abruptly and caught herself mid-sentence. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the tree trunk for support.
“Did I just say I hate my parents? I am a simpleton. What kind of daughter am I?” Catherine exhaled, appalled at her own words.
With her back against a tree trunk, Catherine slid down to the ground and sat with her hands covering her mouth. Her butterscotch eyes were wide and her breath came out in short, strangled gasps.
“Mom, dad, I’m sorry,” Catherine whispered.
“You should have said something to stop me,” Catherine’s lips quivered with self-disgust as she looked into Jase’s eyes.
Jase was caught off guard by her mood swing and sudden change in attitude. Looking at the trembling girl sitting by the giant oak tree, Jase began to see traces of the brown haired girl that saved his life at the apothecary. Catherine’s eyes were filled with self-loathing and pain. Jase’s conscience prickled as he recalled how he judged her before getting to know her.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I’m sorry I said such things. I’m so stressed about the ball and marriage and all. They have been putting so much pressure on me and I have no one to confide in. And Chris –Chris is my best friend. Nothing more,” Catherine sighed while slumping her shoulders.
“I’m a bad person,” she whispered almost inaudibly while bring her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
Catherine jumped as a flock of birds flew through the thick canopy with a loud rustling sound. Jase was overwhelmed with an unexplained surge of protectiveness and made his way towards the distressed princess.
“Nobody is perfect,” Jase said honestly as he placed an arm tentatively around her slumped shoulders, pulling her towards him.
“Especially women with their raging emotions,” he joked trying to lighten the mood.
He waited for the musical laughter but was responded with a small smile instead. The pair sat in silence and absorbed the beauty of their surroundings. Everything was tinted green as the soft evening sun filtered through the thick canopy of leaves. The rustling of leaves, the cheerful chirping of birds and the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore calmed the troubled hearts of the young man and woman.
“I didn’t mean it,” said Catherine, referring to her previous rant.
“I know,” Jase replied. He realised that he never truly believed that she was a spoilt brat, he just wanted to believe.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” Her voice was raw and sincere, and her eyes begged him for an answer.
I wanted to hate you. I wanted to believe that you were a spoilt brat. Bringing out your flaws made it easier to hate you, to justify my plan to kill your father and break your heart. I need to hate you, Catherine.
Jase refused to meet her questioning gaze and kept his eyes focused on a small patch of blue sky in the distance.
The sharp barking of a fox and the piercing shrill of an eagle disturbed the peaceful silence of the forest glade. Making their way through the dense forest, Catherine and Jase arrived just in time to watch a bald eagle snatch up a red fox with its strong sharp talons. The mother fox had sacrificed herself to protect her cub. With a loud shrill of success, the eagle took off with a struggling mother fox and blended into the darkening sky.
The red fox cub barked fiercely at the retreating eagle but the barking subsided as darkness swallowed the predator and prey. The rising moon illuminated the cub’s thick red coat and almond-shaped eyes as it stared silently at the spot in the dark sky where his mother disappeared. Sniffing the ground, the forlorn cub limped towards the empty spot where its mother once stood to protect it from the eagle and curled up in its mother’s scent.
The simple action triggered a buried memory within Jase’s mind. Jase saw a young boy with golden hair hugging his dead parents’ pyjamas and curling up in their king-sized bed. The memory was replaced with an image of a tear-stained wedding picture of his parents. The sharpness of the image blinded him and he repressed the emotions that threatened to overflow.
“He’s injured,” observed Catherine. Her voice was filled with compassion and concern.
Catherine voice ended his trip down memory lane. Closing his eyes, Jase pushed his emotions back into the confinements of the brick walls erected around his heart.
“Careful, princess,” Jase whispered softly as he knelt beside the sleeping fox cub. Catherine stood cautiously behind him.
With his keen sense of smell, the red fox cub leaped to his feet and barked sharply at the Jase. Crouching close to the ground, the cub’s tail was raised and its ears were erect. Staring intently, the cub bit Jase’s outstretched hand in defence.
“I mean you no harm,” Jase murmured as he stroke the cub’s raised fur with his free hand.
Jase felt the cub’s jaw loosen and a wet tongue licked the bite-mark. Purring softly, the cub rubbed against Jase’s hand apologetically.
Catherine tore a strip of her silk handkerchief with her teeth. Breaking a twig in half, she proceeded to wrap the piece of wood around the cub’s injured hind leg. Securing the twig with a tight knot, she bit her lip as the cub yipped in pain. When she was done, Jase set the cub gently on the ground. Catherine was taken aback by the gentleness of his strong muscular hands but made no comment.
“It’s dark. We should probably get going,” Catherine remarked while rising to her feet.
They treaded in silence back to their horses with Jase leading the way through the dense forest. He turned abruptly upon hearing the sound of ripping cloth.
“Uh-oh,” Catherine sighed as her sleeves caught on a tree branch and ripped beautifully.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she muttered defensively, “I actually like this dress,” she groaned.
There was a pause before Jase’s deep chuckle echoed around them. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked while eyeing her torn sleeve.
“So, I gather you ‘accidentally’ rip dresses you dislike?”
“Some of them are really hideous!” she replied defensively. “I had this dark purple dress with a giant bow on the bodice and baby bows that dotted the skirt. The Prince of Esyria has absolutely no fashion sense.”
Jase laughed again as he remembered trying not to gag when Nathan came gloating to him about the purple dress. Nathan had designed the dress himself and had the royal tailors of Esyria make it for him. It was to be a gift for the Princess of Bellerania when they visited the kingdom.
“You should do that more often,” Catherine said seriously as they made their way toward their horses.
“Do what?”
“Laugh.”
Jase fell silent and they saddled their horses without a word.
“I used to,” replied Jase honestly after a while.
“But something happened,” he continued while brushing his parents’ death away with a wave of his hand.
After the words left his mouth, he wondered why he had bothered to elaborate. She was a stranger. Additionally, she was the daughter of his parents’ murderer. She was also the key to his revenge.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Catherine replied as they rode downhill toward the castle. Although she was immensely curious about his past, she sensed that it was a sensitive topic and decided to steer away from the subject.
Jase was surprised by her response. Her lack of inquiry intrigued him.
Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry you’re going to have to pay the price even though it’s not your fault to begin with, though Jase sincerely.
Jase wondered for the fifth time how he thought she was a spoilt brat. Being smart, funny and caring, Catherine was the direct opposite of all his previous sweethearts.
Conversing with Catherine came naturally and Jase found himself opening up to the girl. He answered her questions with as much honesty as he could afford and even threw in a few questions of his own.
By the time they approached the city gates, he had learned that she loves horses, is bad at archery, hates cauliflower, dances like she has two left feet and has two siblings. He also found out that the heir to the Belleranian throne licks her plate when her mother is not looking, single-handedly dug a grave for her dead pony when she was twelve, locked her brother in a bathroom for throwing a temper tantrum and sewed her father a shirt made from an old curtain.
None of the information he learned was vital for the revenge. However, Jase was relaxed and comfortable around Catherine. In one afternoon with her, he talked more to Catherine in one afternoon that he usually did during an entire week.
“You kissed a frog to see if it would turn into a prince?” asked Jase in disbelief while laughing.
Catherine nodded and laughed at his facial expression.
“Three times,” she remarked proudly with a look of self-satisfaction.
“Three? What?” Jase asked blankly.
“You laughed three times today. Once when I ripped my sleeves and again when I described the hideous freak purple dress. This is the third time,” Catherine concluded smugly.
“Be careful. Continue laughing and you might lose the title of being Bellerania’s grouchiest old man,” she smirked and was rewarded by the sound of Jase’s deep laughter.
“You know, most female folk refer to me as tall, handsome, dashing, charming and mysterious. You’re the first to describe me as grouchy,” replied Jase jokingly.
“Well, for starters, my vocabulary is not severely limited and I can see past a pretty face. So you better get used to your new nickname, grouchy,” she teased.
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