The Forgotten Princess (Forgotten Royals)

Chapter Ten

My half-sisters were too young to dine in the Great Hall, so I found myself presiding over the meal as the de facto lady of the castle. Though treated like an unwanted relation by my stepfather, it was hard for the servants in the castle to show disrespect to the daughters of my mother. It was just a game and when my stepfather returned, I would once more be banished to the shadows.

But not tonight.

When Richard joined us, he couldn't take his eyes off me. I tried telling myself it was only the elegant garment. Perhaps he also needed a distraction from the sad excuse of a feast. Meals at Usk had lost their luster since Mama died. She did her best to bring culture and refinement to the frigid castle, but those things had been snuffed out when she died. No music brought life to the dreary atmosphere, only a chorus of retainers slurping and belching. I gave Eleanor a sharp look so she wouldn't imitate their manners. The food was plentiful, but bland. Mama shared King Richard's enthusiasm for French recipes and our meals used to rival the royal court. Now I struggled to keep a pleasant face as I chewed on a rather overcooked piece of meat. Eleanor slipped her food to the hounds when she thought I wasn't looking. Our guest ate with good cheer, as if it were flavored with Ambrosia.

I followed his lead and played his game. The dreary surroundings slipped away, and I pretended this was a fine palace. Richard was my Lancelot, and I was his Guinevere. Our conversation still stayed on safe topics since my stepfather's chaplain was present and he watched us with hawkish intensity. But I almost let out an unrefined chortle when Richard toasted our true king with a wink at me. Everyone followed, unaware of his dangerous game.

Even though I was delighted with his act of rebellion, I should scold him later. He needed to be more careful. But a sweet warmth filled me when I remembered when he called me a princess in his letter.

Perhaps I wouldn't scold him.

"What news is there of court?" I asked once the priest was occupied with his ale.

Richard tilted his head. "Princess Philippa is to get married."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not news, my lord. Everyone knows she wedded by proxy last November."

When I was at court, Catrin brought back many stories of the extravagant celebration for the young princess. It gnawed at me that while I was mourning my mother and groveling for my family, the Lancaster princess was getting fawned over. I could never hate the young, sweet princess, but it was like a slap in the face during one of my worst moments. While I worried that I would have no place to live, she was getting married to the King of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden.

With knightly grace, Richard offered meat to me as a gentleman dining companion should. "Old news perhaps, but what is new is that when she travels to Denmark this summer, I will accompany her."

I accepted the food with a smile, making sure not to stain my houppelande with the greasy meat. Inside, I was reeling. Though it made good sense for Richard to forget about me, there was something comforting in knowing I had one friend in this godforsaken kingdom. When he arrived, it brought back that insidious siren's song of hope. Not that anything could happen, but that I wasn't so alone.

"How long will you be gone?" I asked, hating that my voice sounded so small.

"I'm not sure," Richard said. "I wanted to tell you, so you would know why it might take longer for me to respond to your letters. But I assure you, the letters will arrive only to you."

His meaning wasn't lost on me. He would find a messenger who would make sure the letters ended up in my hand. But all I could think was that Richard would be far away.

I adjusted the flowing sleeve of my houppelande. "You must find an heiress while you're there. A fair lady who will appreciate you."

He frowned. "My brother tells me much the same."