The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch Read Online Free

Châlons and Thuringia. As my father pointed
out, our children—”
    Her and Daemon’s children , she
thought with a sickening lurch of her stomach.
    “—will one day rule both countries as one.”
She could feel the darkness of the chamber closing in around her,
like the black embrace of an unseen demon. “I have no choice.”
    Both of them fell into a long silence.
    Miriam broke it first, in a shameless breach
of etiquette, her voice choked with emotion. “You are very brave,
Princess Ciara.”
    Ciara closed her eyes, knowing she did not
deserve the praise. She was not brave. Not at all. At the moment,
she was thankful Miriam stood no nearer—else she would surely hear
Ciara’s heart pounding.
    But she must not think of herself, of her
own fears … or her own happiness. She must fulfill her duty. Her
responsibility.
    For the first time in her life, she must
live up to the title of princess.
    “At least the journey will be enjoyable,”
Ciara said, turning to face her lady’s maid, trying to muster some
of her usual optimism. “When the wedding procession leaves at dawn,
it will be the first time I have been allowed to venture beyond the
palace since the war began. I will at last have the chance to see the world that I have only been able to read about since
I was twelve.” She gestured toward her book.
    “Indeed, Your Highness,” Miriam said warmly.
“And mayhap we will find that Prince Daemon has changed. Thus far,
he has been true to his word. You and the king were well
treated during your imprisonment. And his mercenaries have been
withdrawn from our lands.”
    “Mayhap victory has made him chivalrous.”
Ciara nodded, trying to believe it. “But as you said, Miriam, we’ve
a long journey ahead of us on the morrow. I must have some sleep
this night, if I am to look my best.” To please my father ,
she added to herself. “Go and tell Alcina to prepare my chamber. I
would say my farewells to the guests and seek my bed anon.”
    Miriam dipped into a low curtsy. “All will
be well, Princess Ciara. I am certain of it.” With her blond head
bowed, Ciara could not make out her expression in the darkness, but
as she rose, Ciara caught the glimmer of tears in those blue eyes.
“I will remember you in my prayers tonight, milady. Good
eventide.”
    She left to carry out Ciara’s instructions,
thoughtfully closing the door behind her.
    Ciara remained where she was a moment,
touched by Miriam’s concern. Then she bent down to pick up the slim
volume she had left in the corner. It fell open to a well-worn
page, a favorite poem by Marie de France called “The Nightingale.”
The gilt letters glistened eerily in the moonlight.
    Drops of blood ran down and spread
    Over the bodice of her dress.
    He left her alone in her distress.
    Weeping, she held the bird and thought
    With bitter rage of those who brought
    The nightingale to death, betrayed
    By all the hidden traps they laid …
    Straightening, Ciara paused a moment,
running her fingers over the familiar lines, words that spoke of
intrigue and betrayal. She wondered whether she should tell someone
of the rumor Miriam had mentioned. Of the rebels who might be
plotting some sort of mad counterattack against Daemon. The tale
might be mere rumor. False. Harmless.
    Or it might be true.
    Closing the book, she decided to mention it
to Sir Braden, one of her father’s most trusted advisers, on the
morrow before she left. He would know what to make of it. Leaning
down, she blew out the candle she had lit.
    She was halfway to the door when she
realized she had left her coronet behind. Turning with a whispered
oath, she went back to the window, knelt down, and started fishing
through the rushes for it.
    When her fingers finally encountered the
slim, jewel-studded circlet, she realized it had gotten dented when
she dropped it. “By all the saints,” she muttered under her breath,
trying to bend the rim back into shape. “Now Father will think me
careless as well