“You have failed. There is no more to be said.” “But—”

But the princess stormed off and thrust open the door, where Pheresa’s maid was hovering, obviously eavesdropping at the keyhole. “You!” she said imperiously.  “Pack my daughter’s belongings at once. She leaves the palace tonight.”

“No!” Pheresa protested.

Her mother turned on her. “I tell you it is over. Your father is already starting negotiations to wed you to—” Horror sweeping her as she realized her mother intended to drag her from the palace in total disgrace and humiliation, Pheresa interrupted, “I won’t go.” “You will do as you are told.” The princess thumped the shoulder of the gawking maid and gestured. “You, hurry up and start the packing.” The maid curtsied. “Yes, your highness. At once.”

But as she scurried away to fetch the trunks, Pheresa shook her head and backed up until she was standing against the wall. “I will not leave the palace, Mama.” Princess Dianthelle sniffed. “This show of spirit comes at the wrong time. You do not impress me.”

“I am staying here.”

“You are finished here! Damne, girl, have you listened to nothing I’ve said?” “There is tomorrow,” Pheresa said. “The final ceremonies of state for Gavril’s investiture. He could have chosen to simply let the king knight him, but instead he wanted the full religious—” “Bah,” the princess said in dismissal. “He is too pious for a young man of his years. One would think he wants to be a priest instead of king.” She frowned at Pheresa while several emotions crossed her beautiful face. Dianthelle, a woman of great ability and intelligence, had never quite forgiven fate for giving her a younger brother who took the throne she wanted. She had then set all her hopes on Pheresa, determined that her daughter would one day reign as queen consort, at least. Now, she looked bitterly disappointed, so much so that Pheresa was tempted to run to her arms and comfort her.

But Pheresa was no longer a child, no longer anxious to please a mother who gave approval so rarely. She could not forgive her mother’s tirade tonight, or the beating. Her own ambition was as strong as, if not stronger than, her mother’s.  She had no intention of throwing away all the weeks and months of loneliness and humiliation—not now, not like this.

“There has been no chance to grow acquainted,” she said. “Gavril has been too

occupied since his return. I am willing to wait—”

“It’s futile.”

“Nevertheless, I will wait.”

Princess Dianthelle tossed her head. “Are you sure it’s Gavril you wait for, or that freak of an eld?”

Pheresa’s cheeks flamed hot, but she forced herself to face her mother’s scorn.

“You should not even have to ask.”

“But I do, and what does that say? What? It says that you have botched everything. Your stubbornness accomplishes nothing and only makes us look like bigger fools. Come, Pheresa, have done with this rebellion. As a marechal, your father knows when to cut his losses and retreat from a battle he cannot win. You must do the same if our family is to retain any pride.” “I will not go,” Pheresa said. The thought of leaving, defeated and destined to go to the hand of the first lord her father could persuade to accept her, was too awful to contemplate. Pheresa lifted her chin. “I am staying.” “To what purpose? What if you are wrong and I am right?” the princess asked her.

“What will you do, linger here the rest of your days, a faded lady-in-waiting?  You will waste yourself, waste all the good your father can accomplish with an alliance between our lands and that of your husband’s—” “I am staying at court.”

“You dare defy me? I can have you beaten for such impertinence and drag you home all the same.”

“And everyone will know it,” Pheresa shot back defiantly.

“What of it? I am above opinion.”

“Then you are above opinion on this matter as well,” Pheresa pointed out. “Look at the logic of the situation and—” “Logic, bah! I wash my hands of you. You are a fool, yes, and even worse, you are a pathetic one. You have already lost, but you insist on ruining yourself absolutely.”

“The king likes me,” Pheresa said. “If I am not betrothed to Gavril soon, his majesty can arrange another match for me. I’m sure I have only to ask him.” The princess sucked in a sharp breath and glared at her daughter. “So tonight’s behavior was only a warning of more defiance to come. You would rather let Verence arrange your marriage than your own father?” Pheresa flinched beneath her mother’s scorn, but she did not surrender. “If I go home now, my father will throw me away on the first alliance he can arrange. No, thank you. I value myself more than that. As does the king.” The princess opened her mouth, but she said nothing. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her shapely mouth pinched white. In silence, she turned away and headed for the door with a furious rustle of her silk skirts.

Her personal page was standing there, gawking, and did not move quickly enough.  The princess swatted him, and the child jumped to pull open the tall door for her.

Pheresa could not bear it. She took a step after her mother. “Mama!” she cried out.

The princess paused on the threshold and glanced back. “You have made your choice,” she said coldly. “So be it.” She tossed a slim purse of coins on the floor. “Consider that your inheritance. There will be nothing else.” “Mama!”

But the princess swept out without looking back.

When Pheresa only stood there, frozen, her emotions in turmoil, the maid crept forward and picked up the money.

“My lady?” she said.

Outside, a few of the curious were loitering in the passageway. Pheresa glared at them. “Shut the door,” she commanded. “Bolt it.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The maid shut the heavy door, and at last Pheresa allowed her emotions to overwhelm her. Sobbing into her hands, she ran for her bed and flung herself across it, weeping as though her heart would break.