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“Well, whatever they’re called,” Nicolette went on, waving an unconcerned hand. “I want one. They seem terribly romantic. But my brother,” she sent Caulder a petulant glance, “says it’s a silly notion.”
Caulder cleared his throat and leveled his sister with a hard stare.
Urban glanced toward the king with raised eyebrows before turning back to Nicolette. “I assure you, it’s anything but silly, although I’m not certain romantic is quite the word I’d use, either.” Flicking up a finger to scratch his own mark, he muttered what sounded like, “Feels more like torture at the moment.”
With a sharp glare his way, his sister elbowed him in the side. He scowled back, but dropped his hand from the mark and returned his attention to Nicolette when she bluntly asked, “Torture? Why ever would you call it torture?”
But before she gave him a chance to answer, she asked, “What made you decide to get one if you don’t like them?”
He grinned at her enthusiasm. “Do you not know our custom then? The High Cliff kind don’t choose them, Princess. We’re required to give them to our young at birth. We all get them no matter whether we want one or not, from servant to nobility.”
“But…” Nicolette glanced curiously toward Princess Allera and back to him. “Your sister doesn’t have one.”
Urban’s smile dimmed and he seemed to stiffen. With a quick glance toward Princess Allera, who’d bowed her head, he murmured, “The mark fades when your one true love dies.”
“Oh.” Nicolette’s smile faltered as well. She glanced between the two siblings with realization in her gaze. She’d just tripped onto a touchy subject.
My stomach knotted with nerves. Nicolette meant no harm, but the prince probably didn’t realize that. If he took offense and hurt her feelings with his reply, I’d be compelled to come to her defense. And I didn’t want to start any poor relations with the High Cliff siblings and possibly harm our alliance.
This entire situation could go wrong so quickly. I held my breath and bit the inside of my li
p, waiting and preparing to intervene if necessary.
“So… So her one true love died?” Nicolette asked softly, her voice uncharacteristically meek.
Urban gave a single nod before he sent his sister an apologetic glance as if he’d been the one to bring up the topic—not Nicolette. And something in me settled. He didn’t blame the young, carefree princess for her blunt questions after all.
Thank God.
The prince of High Cliff didn’t seem like a bad sort at all.
Nicolette turned to Allera, her eyes filled with worry. “I...I’m so sorry, Princess.”
“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it, child.” Princess Allera nodded to her graciously. “You didn’t know.”
“Did you ever get to meet him?”
Allera smiled, even as tears swam in her eyes. “Yes. I… We had nearly seven years together before my husband was killed in battle.”
This time it was Brentley sitting next to Allera who gently touched her arm before murmuring, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The High Cliff princess looked truly appreciative when she told Brentley, “Thank you.”
Nicolette turned back to Urban. “So your one true love still lives, then?”
Urban tensed noticeably, telling me Nicolette had hit yet another nerve. But he kept his cool and gave the girl a single, slow nod. “She does.”
“Then have you just not met her yet? Because you’re not married and… Wait. Are you married?”
“Nicolette,” Brentley finally chastised, sounding embarrassingly flustered. “What did we tell you about asking so many questions?”
“It’s alright,” Prince Urban spoke up, lifting his hand. “I’m the youngest in my family,” he confided to the princess. “So at my dinner table, I’m usually the one who’s full of questions. And, no, I’m not married.”
“Well then?” Nicolette demanded, looking pleased by his defense of her, and more eager than ever to continue talking to him. “Have you? Met her yet?”
Allera opened her mouth as if to interfere, but Urban set his hand on her arm, stalling her, as he studied Nicolette.
“No,” he said. “I haven’t met her, per se.” Then he glanced at Allera and added, “But I have seen her.”
