Page 48 of Veil of Winter

“Just be careful she doesn’t draw you in. We’re in enough trouble as it is, if she cannot get King Wenceslaus to help her. We could easily end up dead, siding with this runaway princess.”

“Are you afraid of death? I never knew you to lose your courage.”

Sir Oswalt growled. “You know I’m not.” He was quiet as they walked the horses back to where they had spent the night. Then he suddenly spoke again. “I am more concerned for you becoming her pawn, like in a game of chess or nine men’s morris. And if you were to marry her, having to listen to her yell and scream every time things don’t go her way.”

“Have you seen her scream every time things didn’t go her way?”

“No, but women change after they get married. That’s when their natural faults really come forth. Ask any married man.”

Gerard had to admit—at least to himself—he had heard more than one man say that.

“Well, I’m not marrying her, so it hardly matters.” And he and Sir Oswalt would be back in England in two or three months, if they were fortunate. He’d have to forget Princess Elyce and her kiss.

Certainly, if Princess Elyce were an English maiden, the daughter of a wealthy merchant or a baron or a knight, and if she did seem kind and good, as interested in him as he was inher, he would try to inspire her love for him, then perhaps ask to marry her. But she was a foreign princess, and so it hardly mattered what he thought of her or the kiss that probably should have surprised him more than it had.

Fourteen

Elyce caught Sir Gerard looking at her again as they rode their horses down the cold, muddy road. She wished she could ask him what he was thinking.

The road to Prague was becoming crowded with people, forcing Elyce and her three companions to ride closer together. They encountered more and more villages along the road as well.

Was Gerard thinking about their kiss as much as she was? Did he wonder what would happen when this was over? She wanted to ask him how he felt about her. But that would be foolish. She might make things so awkward that he would leave. And she needed his help. More than that, she would be sad and hurt if he left, if he rejected her when what she wanted most was to know him better.

What if she gave up this mission and did exactly what shetold Rodrigo she was planning to do—marry Sir Gerard and stay in Prague?

A lovely warmth cascaded through her at the thought of being Sir Gerard’s wife. But that was immediately followed by a sick feeling in her stomach at how her people would hate her, and rightfully so, for abandoning them and leaving them to King Claude’s tyranny.O God, I really am selfish! Forgive me.She could not, would not desert her people.

When she was a little girl, one of her nursemaids had told her, “Don’t be selfish. No one likes a selfish girl.” Then she’d scrunched up her face as if she smelled a rotten fish.

So as a child she had learned there were two unforgivable sins, things that would cause everyone to stop loving her: being selfish and showing too much emotion. But she didn’t always know when she was being selfish. And she hated being fake and pretending to think and feel something she didn’t.

How many times in her life had she hidden in her wardrobe, or in the darkness in her bed, and cried, careful not to let anyone see her? She’d hold in her anger or sadness or disappointment, then later, when she was alone, let it out in hot, bitter tears, ranting in her mind about things she was not allowed to speak out loud.

No one could possibly love her if they knew the kind of thoughts she had.

But how her heart ached with longing, yearning for someone to know everything about her. Even Ysa, who must know her better than anyone, did not truly know her.

Ysa was so quiet and gentle, so different from Elyce. Evenwhen she tried to explain to Ysa how she was feeling, Ysa always gave her that look, with her mouth slightly open, forehead wrinkling, and brows lowering. It was not as bad as Aunt Winifred’s expression of blatant disapproval, but it sent Elyce the same message—that she was not especially lovable.

Sometimes Elyce sensed that Sir Gerard was just as emotional as she was, that he felt things strongly, much the same as she did. But that was probably just wishful thinking.

Still, the thought persisted as she observed Sir Gerard and Sir Oswalt together. Both men were quiet, but Sir Gerard spoke more than his friend. He also showed annoyance more often, but that was because he was always trying to take care of everyone. He made sure they had water and food and that the horses rested when necessary. When they slept in the woods, he took precautions against wild animals, and he arranged for their rooms at the inns. They all depended on him, so when a horse needed a new shoe or a saddle strap broke, no one minded when he became annoyed and spoke a little more sharply or made a growly sound under his breath.

Perhaps he wouldn’t mind if the woman he loved became angry and raised her voice or cried on occasion. If he loved her, he would accept her as she was.

But it was unlikely Sir Gerard would ever love her or ask her to become his wife. He mostly ignored her unless she spoke to him first. And now she was almost too nervous to speak to him, too afraid he might realize she was in love with him.

Sir Gerard turned and looked straight at Elyce.

“Could that be a castle or a cathedral?” Sir Gerard pointedto a rooftop just visible in the distance. The narrow, slanted roof of a tower was covered in snow, snowflakes falling from the low-hanging gray clouds above.

“I believe it is a spire of the basilica inside Prague Castle.” Elyce felt her stomach flip. They were close, so close they would be there within the day.

What would King Wenceslaus say to her entreaties? Would he refuse to help her? Could he be absent from his palace in Prague, on a journey to another kingdom to see the pope or some noble kinsman?

She was soon to find out.

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