Page 86 of Heart of Snow
She knit her brows, climbing off her bed to meet me by the door. “But did you not speak with the prince? How did you leave things with him?”
“I’m certain he’s angry with me. After I insisted he ask permission for us to marry, he—”
“You did what?” Her face went blank.
“I couldn’t make myself... I wouldn’t be his—”
She turned and stormed back to the bed. “Did you exert any effort at all?”
Tears trickled down my cheeks as I stared after her in disbelief. “I’ve done nothing else for the last two years.”
“And yet you’ve failed.” She whirled on me. “Again.”
“Not failed—”
“You pushed too far, Margaretha. If the prince is done with you, who else will you turn to? No other man would dare rob the bed of the kaiser’s son, and with Samuel’s failing health, you haven’t the time to entrap another man anyway. It’s the prince or no one, and you just limited your options to no one.”
A hollow pit formed in my stomach, swallowing up my anger inside the nagging fear that Belinda was right. I may have lost my brother forever.
“I suppose it’s up to me to fix this mess.” She threw me one last irritated look before she climbed into bed, lying down with her back to me.
I held in my emotion, waiting until after I’d sneaked back into my chambers, after Ilsa had helped me undress, after I’d climbed into bed and pulled the coverlet up to my chin, before letting my tears trace their warm paths down my face.
Chapter 40
Margaretha
Several days passed with noword or looks from the prince, and as I awoke to soft sunlight and the clinking of dishes, I anticipated this day would be no different.
Across the room, Ilsa poured a cup of wine, but the chamber was otherwise empty.
“Where are the other ladies?” I pulled myself to sitting.
Ilsa looked up at the sound of my voice. “All gone to mass.”
“No one bothered to wake me?”
She set the wine jug down and crossed the room to put a tray of food on my lap. “I think they all assumed your nights have been busy and you needed the rest.”
I choked on my wine and was in a fit of coughs when a knock called Ilsa to open the door. Standing outside the room with disheveled hair and his jerkin half unbuttoned was Felipe, looking much altered since our row.
“Your Grace!” I pulled the coverlet up to my shoulders for modesty, knocking over the tray of food and spilling grapes and oatcakes. It earned me his amused smile.
“I was hoping we might speak,” he said.
At my hesitation, he added, “I shall behave, I promise. I only want to talk.”
“Very well. Did you . . . right now?”
He glanced down the corridor and stepped out of the doorway, letting the returning ladies-of-honor file past. Their eyes trailed over his untidy state, and with me still in bed in my chemise, I could easily guess the thoughts inspiring their knowing grins and behind-the-hand snickers. He gave them a gracious smile, then turned his attention back to me.
“When you’re ready.” He bowed and disappeared into the hall.
While Ilsa dressed me, I lamented Belinda’s absence. Like the prince, she’d been aloof the last few days, claiming she was working hard for Samuel’s freedom and too busy to see me. I suspected she still hadn’t forgiven me for botching things with Felipe. But now with him wishing to speak to me, causing me to hope I might still have a chance to help my brother, I wished Belinda was here to advise me.
Taking a fortifying breath, I joined the prince and his attendants in the corridor. He shrugged away from the wall, offering his arm, and I found it strange touching him again with my feelings so conflicted.
“I’ve missed you, Margaretha,” he said, his voice quiet as we turned our way down the turret stairs. “I haven’t slept well or thought clearly since we parted.”
