Loving the Forbidden Prince

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*****

AYLETH

Ayleth's stomach sank as she watched Etan bear up under his father's rage. She understood. She hadn't expected anything less. In fact, she suspected if it was her parents they had this conversation with, his blood would already have been spilled. 

But even as Etan's jaw twitche and he set himself not to waver, she saw his face pale. She felt through the bond the way the son within him—the child who admired his father—wanted to cower and plead for approval. For love.

She squeezed his hand, and Etan's throat bobbed. "I will take Ayleth to my tent, and we will await you when you have had time to calm down. I do not set myself against you, Father. I only… I will not discard my wife for you. She is not our enemy."

"Get. Out."

"Derryn—" his mother murmured.

"DO NOT TRY ME!"

Etan braced, but his father was the one to turn away, to stalk to the other end of the tent, muttering curses and raking a hand through his hair. Etan finally let his chin drop, swallowing back the fear and grief that she could feel his father's disapproval raising in him.

His mother watched her husband prowl the tent, and she sighed. But when she turned back to Ayleth, it was with a small smile. "Why don't I help you find your way to a bath?" she said quietly. "I'm sure after your travels you could use one."

Ayleth returned her smile and nodded, drawing Etan out of the tent behind his mother, Falek and Borsche falling in with them after they'd passed through the tent flap. 

Ayleth pulled her hood over her face as soon as they passed out of the tent, and she kept her chin low so no wayward flame or lantern would light her features as they wound between the tents and campfires of the Summitran nobility and high servants. Because Etan still held her hand, and the Queen walked with them now, curious eyes followed them. And it was clearly apparent to all that this was no messenger. So they watched, sharp-eyed, as the cluster of rulers and defenders passed. 

In the shadow of her hood, Ayleth let her lips press together grimly. That had not gone well. And although it could have been worse—likely would have been in her home—she had to admit nerves over where this might end.

The King was raging, unwilling to listen even to his Queen, let alone his son. And while she'd pretended confidence to the King, the truth was, she was almost as certain as he that her parents would refuse to believe any assurance she might give them of her personal agency in this matter. 

They would learn she was in the hands of the Summitrans, and they would attack. It was that simple. The King had the right of it.

Then they were ducking into another tent, not far away, but closer to the edge of the Royal camp. Almost as large as his parent's, it glowed from within with the light of several lamps lit. 

Two guards stood duty outside, and more patrolled this central area of the camp, keeping watch over the King, Queen, and Heir, as they should.

Ayleth waited until they'd stepped inside, followed by Borsche and Falek this time, before she pushed her head back. 

The Queen had hung back outside, to arrange servants, she said. So for a moment the four of them were alone. 

Ayleth looked at Etan first, but he was staring back, towards the tent flap, frowning.

When she looked at Falek, his eyes were dark, his face expressionless. But his hand gripping the hilt of his sword spoke volumes about what he thought about that exchange.

Borsche, too, was solemn, watching Etan. No visible weapons on his person, but she knew they were only hidden among the folds of his tunic, or other sly pockets. She suspected the opening and closing of his fingers was an indication of his desire to grip a weapon also.

"Well," she said, breathlessly. "We knew it wasn't going to be easy."

Etan's head snapped around to find her then, his eyes pleading. "Are you okay?"

"Of course! It was only… I just hope your father will find calm and become more… open to you. I don't want to be the reason your two are fighting."

Borsche snorted. "This isn't a simple family matter, Ayleth. The entire Kingdom—"

"She is very aware of that," Falek snapped at the man, bristling. 

Borsche frowned. "Then it bears repeating. The events that unfold this night will go down in history. There is a great deal more to be concerned with than whether the King and his Prince are getting along."

"I know, Borsche," Ayleth said, her voice hushed. "But I will never let the greater channels of power stop me caring about the hearts of the people—especially my husband. We can be at peace within the Kingdom and still battle those we love. I can care for both."

Borsche nodded his head, and Falek rolled his head once, but they both went quiet.

Etan was staring at her like he still couldn't quite believe she was there, but before he spoke, his mother strode into the tent, her eyes bright and hands clasped at her waist. 

"Well, what an eventful day!" she said quietly.

"I do apologize for the difficulties I have caused," Ayleth said to her earnestly. "It wasn't my desire—" 

The Queen nodded once. "It will indeed be a difficult time in our history. But I pray the Father of Lights will bring us through it with peace—not only in our family, but in our Kingdom."

"Anything I might do to aid you, please, only ask. I will do it."

The Queen tilted her head. "Are you willing to return to your parents?"

Ayleth sucked in a breath.

"Mother, no! She is my wife!"

But his mother only stared at Ayleth who set her jaw. "I will do anything within my power to inform them, to draw the lines of communication, or to ensure they understand… but I will not leave my husband," she said through her teeth. "I don't believe—"

"Neither do I," the Queen said quickly. "But I had to know whether you were here out of jealousy, or a sense of adventure. I'm glad to hear that isn't the case." 

But then her face fell.