Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,58

an adversary.

“You love her.” Vilmar’s quiet declaration broke through the stillness of the cottage.

Why deny the truth? What purpose would it serve? “Yes, I love her and intend to wed her.”

“As you are bound to become Scania’s next king and she is Mercia’s queen, how will such a match prevail? You cannot intend to rule your countries separately and live apart from one another.”

Vilmar’s words, though spoken kindly, barreled into me with such force that I pulled out a bench and dropped onto it. Aurora was the long-awaited queen of a country who desperately needed her to take her place as ruler in order to stop Queen Margery from demanding the throne in her stead.

And now that I was the only prince left in the competition for Scania’s throne, I couldn’t give up. Could I?

I had only to think of her smile and the way her eyes lit up for my chest to seize with protest. It had been hard enough to imagine a month without her, much less a lifetime. I couldn’t do it.

Deny thyself.

I wanted to thrust the words from my mind somehow. But I’d said them too oft over the past months, and now they were so embedded into my being that they welled up within me almost as if they were alive.

The same question that had confronted me when I’d said farewell to her arose to confront me again. Could I deny myself when it came to her?

My shoulders slumped, and I leaned my elbows on the table. Knocking aside a lone mug, I buried my face in my hands. If I’d thought we had obstacles when I believed her to be a pauper, they were nothing compared to the mountain now standing between us. We were both destined to be the rulers of separate nations. And as much as we loved each other, we must love our countries and our people first. Our duty to them had to remain foremost.

The simple truth was, I wouldn’t be able to wed Aurora. The best thing for us both was for me to let her go and never see her again.

Chapter

17

Aurora

The night air swirled around me with a chill that hadn’t previously been present, one that signaled the changing of seasons but had helped to keep me awake during the long hours of traveling.

The choppy ride on the mount also prevented any slumber—not that I wanted to sleep. Instead, I was curious to survey the changing landscape and take in all I could of the thinning Inglewood Forest and the rockier terrain. The sliver of moon provided scant light for my first real sighting trip of Mercia, but I was pleased with what I saw nonetheless, especially now that the rugged heathland began to take shape.

“How do you fare, Your Majesty?” Chester asked from the saddle directly behind me. He held himself aloof, giving me a measure of privacy while also keeping me safe and secure. Aunt Elspeth and Aunt Idony each had their own mounts and followed behind us. Every time I glanced back, Aunt Elspeth was nodding off.

“You need not call me by my title, Chester,” I admonished as I had already several times.

“I aim to do it whether you want me to or not, Your Majesty.”

Though his tone was somewhat belligerent, I sensed a note of humor and was glad we weren’t feuding anymore. I’d been upset at him yesterday for harming Kresten. And perhaps I hadn’t liked his decision to leave the cottage so soon, but I was trying to understand his concerns.

Besides, if I couldn’t be with Kresten, then what was the use of staying any longer in the forest? I was ready to go and had been for many months. Now I was eager to explore the kingdom. If only Chester hadn’t decided to travel by night instead of by day.

I understood his determination to stay hidden as best as possible. Yesterday, after we’d packed the necessities, Chester had led us on the loneliest and most secluded trails to reach Huntwell Fortress, just as we used to do when I’d gone there to visit my father.

He’d guided us through the secret tunnels into the fortress. I’d stayed secluded from the servants, but I had no doubt many of them suspected that their secret guest was someone special when baths were drawn and a lavish meal prepared.

We’d stayed but a short time, especially after learning Queen Margery had taken up residence at Boarshead Hunting Lodge, not far away in Warwick. With less than