XVIII |Family
Esther could not tell what he wanted, but by now, after having shared countless meals with the man, she was certain of one thing: he was amused. He would look at her from where he sat at the head of the table, the smile on his lips reminding her so much of her dead brother, Albert. As if deliberately implying he knew many things she did not, and he would not tell her because she was just a princess—a useless symbol to a kingdom that did not need her opinion.
She chewed her food and caught his gaze. He smiled, eyes twinkling like the stars he talked to her about. Yes, he told her about his travels around the world, how he spent nights in the mountains just staring at the clear sky. He told her of the people he met, the women he bedded, the childhood he both loved and hated.
"In a way, we are the same," he had told her one morning. "We were born predestined to be someone. Have you ever wondered if that is the destiny you want for yourself?"
His question had persisted and stayed with her even as she lay in bed later that night after he said it. It still lingered in the corner of her mind even today, at this moment, as she looked at him. "You are not who you say you are, are you?" she asked, breaking the morning silence.
She did not expect him to answer, or even tell the truth. But he surprised her by laughing. "Of course, I am not." He leaned back in his chair, his food completely forgotten. "Who do you think I am, princess?"
Esther had always believed she had a gift. That she could sense a storm before it even showed in the sky. When she was young, she would smell it in the air before anyone could. And now, as she stared at this man, she could sense a different storm. "I prefer you tell me."
"And what do I get in return?"
"My surprise," she replied with a shrug.
The corner of his lips curled, his eyes traveling from her eyes down to her mouth, then lower before it cruised back up to hold her gaze. "I am the son of the man intent to take your family out of the throne."
It was not cold that rushed through her. It was dread, so strong it nearly pushed her off her chair in panic. She had been dining with the worst enemy. As she sat there motionless, just as she had been trained to react to situations such as this, she caught her breath and controlled it. "Leo Reginald Stanhope."
"Ah," he said with mock relief. "It is quite heavenly to hear my name spoken by you, princess."
"You bastard," she gritted out, her cheeks trembling. "You planned this."
"No, but I asked for you to be here," he said with a shrug. "I have quite a romantic bone, you see. The Royal Master was reluctant at first, but they eventually agreed to my request." She did not say a word, nor did she ask the question. "Now, I am not so keen on being king, but my father is," he started, and she scoffed, saying, "Liar."
He grinned. "Not everyone is like you, princess," he replied in a more serious tone that she almost believed him. "But like you, I am bound by blood. Once my father arrives in Sutherland, which is quite soon, there will be a war. Napoleon or not, there will be."
"And we shall tear you to pieces."
"You will now, will you?" he chuckled. "Would you like to hear my plan now?" When she remained quiet, he chuckled. "You are too stubborn." He stood and walked closer, stopping just two steps away from her, hands behind him. "If we marry, you and I are going to save this kingdom."
"There is no way I would—"
"There are only two ways this thing could end. First, your father remains to be king. Second, my father regains his throne. Now, supposing we marry, should the first one happen, you can behead me if you wish. But if the second one happens, you will be queen once I take the throne from my father because I hate beheading women."
She forced out a laugh. "You may be stupid, Leo, but I am not. Do not think for a moment that I would let anyone use me."
"How will I use you, darling princess?" he asked, looking at her with amusement. "In bed, perhaps, yes. But that is all I am interested in, really." He laughed and stepped back when she glared at him. "Well?"
"Why would I ever be interested in agreeing to your plan?"
"Because you should start thinking about how you can survive this bloody game. Your mother never chose you to be High Priestess. Have you ever wondered why?"
She stiffened. How much did this bastard know? Much, that was for certain, she thought with dread.
"Why did they choose Albert? Was he more capable than you to run Belcourt?" He took a step closer. "More importantly, would she have ever found good use of you if Albert is still alive?"
Leo smiled at her. Her nostrils flared. "My mother has plans for me."
"Of course, she does—turn you into the next High Priestess. I wonder how they can do that. You never grew up in Belcourt."
"Neither did Albert!"
"But Albert certainly knew Belcourt for years before he ruled it. You do not."
"You are not certain of that, ignorant fool that you are."
His laughter rang in the breakfast room. "Darling, I know more about Belcourt than you do. I am not the ignorant fool. I know where every Belle is, where every Soldier is. And I know where they keep the retired ones. Do you even know where Sinhold is?"
She gritted her teeth but remained silent. Her mother promised to tell her everything once this was over—once she was High Priestess.
"That is where they send their women to die," Leo said, smiling at her. "But you can learn all that, smart princess that you are. But tell me—how will you become High Priestess? Do not tell me you are planning to kick your own niece out of Belcourt?"
She scoffed. "Leila is but a child. She is not even ruling Belcourt as we speak."
"Oh, balderdash. You are not fit to be High Priestess," he said with a scoff. She was about to say something when he added, "You can be queen once I become king. And with you as queen, and a Vandenberg at that, you can take over Belcourt. You can choose the next High Priestess." He stepped back with a satisfied smile, as if he knew he finally got her. "And that, my dear, is a far greater power."
*****
The man had red hair and green eyes, his gaze mild, his smile kind. But Leila knew she could not trust him. Yet, she came almost every night to talk to him. She knew that the stories he told her were all said to manipulate her.
He would answer any question she had. At first, she asked about the most trivial things. How did they hunt their food? What animals had he found thus far? Did he know how to swim? And he would answer with a gentle, playful voice. As if he was talking to his own child.
But she was no child. She had no parents either. Like everyone else from Belcourt, she was unwanted before she was chosen by Albert.
"What is your name?" she asked him one night, the two of them sitting under a tree in the shadow of the night.
"Why are you asking now?" he asked with a smile. She shrugged and waited. "August."
"Leila," she said.
"I know," he said, his smile growing gentler.
"You know me, do you not?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"We are family."
She stiffened. Family. She had none. "You are lying."
"No, I am not."
Swallowing the confusion, she asked, "Are you my father?"
"No," he said. "I'm your uncle."
Her brows fused into a frown, her mind spinning at an unbelievable speed. She was not prepared for this. How could she? But then, this must be how he planned to trick her. "And you want me to stay outside Belcourt. Is that why you are here? To take me away?"
He shook his head. "I do not have the power to do that. Not when everyone else wants you to return."
She frowned. What was this man trying to do? She did not know how to deal with this. Albert never taught her how to deal with this. Should she have not come here? Should she return and never come back to the cabin?
"Leila, you are a Vandenberg," August told her. "So am I." He did not move, but she could sense he wanted to reach out. "The Vandenbergs rule Belcourt."
She shook her head. "Belcourt is ruled by the High Priestess, one who has also been abandoned."
"Albert was not a foundling, was he?" August asked. "He was the crown prince."
"Y-Yes, but he was—"
"He was placed there by his mother, Queen Helena Vandenberg Davercher. All High Priestesses before him were also Vandenbergs."
"But I—"
"You are Albert's daughter. He took you away from your mother and placed you in Belcourt. Just like what they did to my sister—my twin." His smile vanished, replaced by a look of both sadness and hatred. "Gabrielle."
A warning screamed inside her, telling her to run away, to not believe him. But she could not.
Mother. He said mother. She had one.
She swallowed and moistened her lips. Mother. She wanted to know more, but how? Asking would make her look desperate. Asking would tell this man she wanted a mother. She did not. Belcourt had always been enough. Venus, Albert, Arielle... the other Maidens... they were enough.
Albert told her that her mother was dead. But was she?
"Our family, the Vandenbergs, will do anything to keep you inside Belcourt, Leila. That is how they plan to rule Sutherland."
She shook her head. "Belcourt rules none but itself."
His smile told her he knew something she should not know.
"And if what you are saying is true," she said, "then I agree with your family. I will return to Belcourt."
He shook his head. "No, you cannot."
"You are going to stop me?"
"No, but Arielle would."
She frowned. "Arielle is naught but my regent."
"And she is ruling Belcourt as we speak." August took a moment to look at her. "And she is doing a very poor job."
"What do you mean?"
"Belcourt is in unrest. The ladies are realizing the truth about the Vandenbergs. Many of them wish to be free. We just got word that many are also being punished by Arielle for crimes they did not commit, for disobeying her orders." August turned to face her, and she nearly scrambled away to run. But his gaze held her in place. "If you go back inside Belcourt, Leila, you will be killed."
At that moment, whether or not this man was telling the truth, Leila realized her first mistake. She should not have left Belcourt.
*****
Ellise looked out into the open sea, the night wind blowing her hair back. Dior was leaning against the railing, his back on the horizon, his hair blown face ward. They had not discussed Theodora Vandenberg since they left. They knew their visit could only go two ways: Theodora would betray them or work with them.
"They would be here soon," Dior said, looking at her with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. "Once they dock, you will be free of the stupid Royals."
She smiled back. "Pity. I was starting to get used to you, men."
"When should we get married?" he asked. When she remained quiet, he added, "Are you weighing the consequences?"
"Of marrying you, no. Of marrying into your family, yes." She sighed. "By now, our mothers must be at war."
He looked over his shoulder, as if he could already see Herst beyond the darkness of the sky and sea. "I am willing to wager my entire fortune that we shall arrive to an announcement that the wedding could not happen."
"No wager then. I agree. They must have already agreed our families are not a suitable match by now."
"We will not have to tell them it was all pretend," he said, belatedly adding, "If we both agree not to marry."
"We did lie, but I'm quite certain I was not pretending," she admitted.
His smile widened. "You will hate being a duchess."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Surely it is not worse than being Darcy."
They fell silent, unbothered by what awaited them in Herst. Their minds were at the little pieces they had set in place, all waiting for the arrival of the king.
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