Chapter 4
Seeing my silence, Edmund softened his tone, though his eyes remained sharp. “Princess Isolde, you will apologize to Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened at his audacity. A princess apologizing to a noblewoman was unheard of in the courts of Silvermire. “Lord Blackthorn, you mistake the matter,” she said faintly, her voice trembling. “It was not the princess’s doing… and how could one so exalted as Her Highness be asked to
humble herself to me?”
Edmund cut her off, his voice firm. “Eleanor, you need not fear. I have guided Princess Isolde for years and bear a duty to correct her errors. She has ever heeded my counsel.”
A flicker of smugness crossed his face, and I found the man before me absurd, almost laughable. “Lord Blackthorn,” I said, my voice icy, “do you truly believe me still the witless child you once mocked at your leisure?”
“I say again, today’s affair has no tie to me.”
My tone grew colder, each word deliberate. Yet to Edmund, my words were mere deflection.
“Had you not proclaimed our betrothal before the court, Eleanor would not have become a target of their envy and spite. You bear the blame for her suffering today, Princess”
“I’ve no patience for this,” I snapped, turning to leave.
Edmund strode after me, his eyes blazing with anger. “Apologize to Eleanor, or I shall petition King Alaric tomorrow to resign my post as tutor. Then, Princess, you will never see me again!”
In my former life, when my mind was clouded, I clung to him ceaselessly, begging him to stay even as the palace gates were barred for the night. “Isolde cannot bear to part from you, sir,” I had pleaded, “stay with me always!” He believed I still cared for him, wielding that assumption as a weapon to bend me to his will
But he could not know that now I wished nothing more than to sever all ties with him, to banish him from my heart forever. I struggled to free my wrist from his grasp, but his strength overpowered mine, and I winced at the sharp pain.
A voice, cold as winter’s edge, cut through the air. “Lord Blackthorn, you dare lay hands on Princess Isolde in full view of the court? Do you seek to claim the role of Royal Consort for yourself?”
I looked up to see Sir Godfrey of Ravenspire approaching, his grey–white cloak billowing as he swiftly freed me from Edmund’s hold.
“What mean you, Sir Godfrey?” Edmund retorted, his brow furrowing. “All Silvermire knows you as the Knight of the White Flame, slaying foes on the field and praying in cloisters, sworn to chastity. By what right do you aspire to the hand of Princess Isolde? How can a knight bound by vows of piety fulfill the duties of a royal consort?TM
Godfrey smiled, unfastening a string of prayer beads from his wrist and gently placing them around my neck. “Have you not heard, Lord Blackthorn? Princess Isolde has consented to be my bride.”
Though he addressed Edmund, Godfrey’s gaze never wavered from me. “Isolde,” he said softly, “I I have adorned the garden bower at my manor with roses for our summer walks. In autumn, we shall row upon the lake. Would you care to see it for yourself?”
i smiled, taking his arm with ease, and together we turned to depart. Edmund’s mind seemed to reel, his breath uneven as he hurried after us. “Princess, do you truly mean to wed him?”
Without hesitation, I stepped into the Ravenspire carriage. Edmund’s desperate cries faded behind me, carried away by the wind.
