Rafel Riva, crown prince of Rivand, felt restless and the
only reason he could imagine for his desire to flee the palace lay in the ball
to be held that evening. Four and twenty
young women of lineage and wealth had been invited. The thought of meeting and greeting them
chilled him.
He glared at his mother’s back. His escape from the palace had been delayed
while she gushed about the gaggle of girls who would attend. Each one had been evaluated as to their
suitability as a bride. Her choices had
been based on the prestige they would bring to the family.
The queen turned.
“Rafel, you are five and twenty.
‘Tis time you were wed. You must
choose one for your bride and make her the happiest of women.”
And him the glummest of men.
“Yes, mother.”
“Three princesses are among the most eligible. The duke’s daughter will also do. But a princess will bring honor to Rivand.”
His stomach clenched.
Choosing a bride meant there could be just one woman in his life. A dreary and boring fate. He liked women, all women.
He hurried along the corridor toward a side door and an
escape from the noise and bustle of preparation. All to celebrate an event he found
distasteful. So engrossed in his plan to
escape when a hand clamped his shoulder he reached for his sword.
“Son, I’m glad I caught you.” The king smiled. “Have you seen any among the young ladies you
would choose as a bride?”
Rafel shook his head.
He had avoided watching the arrivals of the past few days. “I’ve been busy.”
“I have several suggestions.
The time has come for you to put aside your wild ways and settle into
providing heirs for Rivand.”
“Leave your list with my body servant. Mother left hers.”
The king nodded. “I
will. Perhaps by comparing the two you
will find the perfect candidate. My list
contains those who come from prolific families.
I expect you and your chosen bride to present the kingdom with a son by
this time next year. There’s nothing
like a son to drive wildness from a man.”
“Yes, Father.”
Rafel’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. Was there a need for an heir to have an heir? He had three younger brothers, all in line
for the throne.
Rafel watched his father walk away. Only a few strands of gray touched the king’s
dark hair. His father was a hale man and
good for many more years of rule. As
thoughts of twenty or thirty years of being crown prince arose, Rafel groaned.
He reached the exit nearest the stable and slipped
outside. The brother next in line for
the throne emerged from behind the hedge.
“Rafe, aren’t you excited?”
“About what?”
“The ball.”
Rafel shrugged. “Nor
particularly.”
“But you might find love with one of the ladies.”
“Or eternal unhappiness.
What is love beyond a trap lauded by the verses of poets? I have no desire to marry. If you like you are welcome to them all.”
Peder frowned.
“Everyone says you must marry.”
He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot. “What if you chose the maiden I love?”
Rafel leaned against the palace wall. “Do you have a choice?”
“I do. She loves me
but her parents are angling for the heir to the throne. You have all the luck.”
Luck, Rafel thought.
“Hardly.” Tonight he would meet
young women all vying for his attention.
He pushed away from the wall.
“See you at the ball.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a ride.”
“You’d better be back in time.”
Rafel laughed. “If
I’m not, you can take my place.” He
dashed to the stable.
As he saddled his roan gelding he overheard the head groom
speaking to another man. “Tonight the
prince chooses a bride. I’ve placed my
money on the princess of Manir. Who have
you picked?”
The other man snorted.
“No choice for me. One hundred
years have passed since the witch took the first crown prince.”
Rafel frowned. A
witch. How superstitious the lower
classes were. He’d only heard of witches
in stories designed to frighten children into obedience. He led the horse from the stable, mounted and
rode through town to the south gate. As
his steed flowed from a walk to a canter he recalled the painting of a man
called “The Lost Prince.” Rumors said
the young man had vanished mysteriously.
Rafel wished he could do the same and stay away long enough to miss the
ball.
Sunlight filtering through the dense foliage of the summer
growth roused him from his reverie. How
long had he been gone? His stomach
growled and he knew he’d missed the midday meal. He tried to turn the horse but the steed
burst into a gallop along the narrow trail.
As suddenly as the urge to return to the palace had arrived, the feeling
vanished. Rafel felt an eagerness to
find the trail’s end.
The pounding pace continued.
Rafel loosened his hold on the reins.
Trying to halt the horse seemed impossible. The trees opened into a clearing. The steed halted at a picket fence. Rafel frowned. He’d never heard of anyone living in the
forest. He studied the scene. Rose bushes lined the fence and filled the
air with their sweet scent. A path led
from the gate through a garden with flowers on one side and a kitchen garden on
the other. The flagstones ended in front
of a small weathered cottage.
Who lives here? Rafel
dismounted and walked to the gate. He
paused with his hand on the latch.
Wouldn’t be polite to wander into someone’s house without an
invitation. A trace of smoke rose from
the chimney. Someone lived here. “Hello,” he called.
The cottage door opened and someone walked along the
path. As the person neared he saw a
woman with hair the color of sunshine and a body with enough curves to intrigue
him. When she reached the gate, he met
the gaze of eyes as blue as the summer sky.
“Welcome.” She opened
the gate.
The music of her voice danced along his spine. “Who are you?”
“Some call me the Witch of the Woods. I am Emme.
Are you the crown prince of this time?”
His brow furrowed.
What did she mean? “I am Rafel
Riva, crown prince of Rivand.”
She smiled. He sensed
something predatory in her gaze. He
stepped back.
“Enter my garden.”
Her honeyed voice lured him a step or two. He grasped the gate. “I wish I could, fair one, but I must return
to the palace.”
Her laughter trilled.
“’Tis not to be. You have been
called. You have a chance to end the
curse I placed on the House of Riva. You
look so much like the one who came here before.
Your hair is black and your eyes are the green of summer leaves.”
“What is this curse?”
he asked.
“The first prince I called refused to announce his love for
me. His father, the king, tried to burn
my refuge and failed. Every hundred years I will call the crown prince. He will be given a chance to end what I
called on the family.”
“What must I do?”
“Give me your love and marry me.”
Her answer produced a bark of laughter. “Marriage.
You’ve chosen the wrong prince, my fair witch. I prefer my single state.”
“That is not the answer I want to hear.”
Rafel studied her.
She was beautiful but so were other women. “So you cursed my family for a selfish
reason. Just because my ancestor refused
to love you. What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. He
entered the amber globe and vanished.”
She waved her hand and an oval of amber appeared on the grass near his
feet.
“Surely there’s another way.” If she had lived a hundred years how did she
remain young? He rubbed his arms. She must be a witch.
“The only way is for you to love and marry me.”
He shook his head. “I
can’t.”
“Not even to break the curse.”
Rafel squared his shoulders.
“Not even then. If I said I loved
you that would be a lie. My mother wants
me to marry for prestige and my father for heirs. You demand love. I can please none of you.”
She waved her hand.
“So be it.”
The amber globe grew until he was surrounded. Rafel tried to escape but his blows bounced
from the smooth surface. He closed his
eyes. When he opened them he faced a
forest but not the one he’d left for the leaves were touched with the bright
colors of autumn.
“Come.” A soft voice
commanded. “Come.” The call came again, this time spurring him
to run toward the trees.
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