**THE PRINCESS SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE, and considered a sequel to THE GOLDEN QUEEN/A BRAZEN LOVE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE GOLDEN UNIVERSE NOVELS AND THE BRAZEN NOVELS TO READ THIS SERIES! AS WELL AS BOOK ONE, PRINCESS OF CANDOR!♦
In...
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♪ I've been ignoring this big lump in my throat I shouldn't be crying, tears were for the weaker days ♪ {Rihanna—What now?}
The hours rolled on slower than ever preceding Thomas' return to the carriage. No one spoke, no one breathed out loud; no one fidgeted too much nor made much sign of life.
But once they reached Harbour Station, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the port, the onrush of arrivals and departures and merchants, all four occupants of the vehicle were brought back to their senses. They had to navigate through the crowd, pinch their noses from the oncoming odors of not-so-fresh fish, and avoid jamming into anyone who looked at them strangely.
Cordelia and Helen were, after all, women with an elevated status. Despite their ragged cloaks, it showed in their posture, their high chins, their wrinkling nostrils as they zigzagged between other individuals who weren't as well-off as them. And those individuals eyed the Princess with a hunger for her clothes, her belongings, anything that would trade well and give them a better life.
She didn't recall Dover being like this, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Thomas stopped them near an enormous packing ship off to the right side of the port. It was, as Cordelia had said to reassure Helen the day before, giant. Seeing it up close gave her a vertigo that popped her ears and seemed to anchor her in a new reality—one of swaying waters and creaking wood and unbalanced steps.
She glanced at Helen, who'd refused to take Thomas' arm, denied the chaperone's assistance, and now perked up, ignoring Cordelia's growing concern for her, too. Her gaze was steady, fixed on the front of the ship, and Cordelia tilted slightly sideways to follow what she was looking at—the figurehead.
At first glance, she would have shrugged at the thing—a mermaid, something straight out of a fantasy novel, with wild hair and bared breasts and a swooping tail that dipped into the water. But upon closer examination, as they approached to board, she noticed the figurehead's hair was serpents. Her scaly tail was rusted, coppery, and poked with what looked like bullet holes or spear streaks.
She shivered, willing away the images provoked by the sight of this snake-haired woman, plastered over the front of the ship, worn out and riddled with scars. Had she taken the brunt of a few hits? A few guns aimed at her? Had this ship been through war? Come to think of it, the boat did look like a massive warrior barge, like those Cordelia had seen in drawings in books at the Torrinni Library.
A ship was a ship, she convinced herself. They'd likely not get better accommodations than this, and on such short notice, this might have been Antoine and the British royal's only solution to getting her home.
As Thomas guided them aboard—seeming acquainted with the location of everything, even nodding in salute to a few sailors as they passed them—he motioned at a crew member and lowered his voice.
