Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 63

Alone at last
“Shall we sit while the princess rests?” Anaisa suggested after a moment, gesturing to two chairs. “I can make tea.”

“That sounds nice,” Trace replied. It had been quite a day so far. The inquiry, the arrests, the new letter he had yet to fully read. He felt far more tired than he was. A cup of tea with his wife seemed like a refreshing prospect.

Instead of one of the chairs, he sat on a cushioned sofa, hoping that Anaisa would sit beside him on it. He was disappointed when she took up a place in one of the adjacent chairs instead, bringing hot water from a pot hanging over the princess’s sitting room fireplace.

“She seems incredibly pleased with herself,” Trace shook his head as he remembered Sapphira’s parting words. The cheeky royal was as unpredictable as spring weather.

“Oh, she always is,” Anaisa whispered, still looking at the door where the princess had gone.

“There’s… there’s no other way out of that room, is there? She won’t try to escape?” Trace worried. “If I fail to keep her safe and confined, apparently I’ll be executed.”

Anaisa shook her head. “There are only two doors out of that chamber. That one, and one into my bedroom in case she needs anything during the night.”

She pointed to a door beside Sapphira’s. “That’s my room, so we would see her trying to sneak out of there. Besides,” She said, raising her voice in volume, “she’s likely far too interested in overhearing our conversation to try to leave.”

The princess’s door, which had edged open an imperceptible amount, suddenly shut firmly with a click.

Trace clapped his hand over his mouth to avoid openly laughing at the young royal, and Anaisa snickered with him.

“Would she faint if she knew about us?” Trace dropped his voice to a whisper.

“That we’re married?” Anaisa whispered back. “No, she’d likely have all kinds of questions about it. She’s due to be married, perhaps against her will, soon, and she’s…”

Obviously lacking the right word to finish the sentence, she shrugged.

“Curious? Anxious? Upset?” Trace supplied a few possibilities.

“All of them at once, perhaps.” Anaisa gifted him with a small smile.

“And what advice would you give her on marrying a man she hardly knows?” He tried to make his tone playful, but was very interested in her answer.

“That most of the prospects are probably old, or drunk, or likely both,” She teased.

“Very encouraging advice,” Trace nodded with mock approval. “The king certainly won’t execute you for impertinence.”

“As… difficult… as she is,” Anaisa looked as if she wanted to use a stronger word but wavered, “I still don’t want to see anyone trapped in a bad marriage.”

“No, of course not,” Trace agreed. “No one deserves that… but is there no hope for a good marriage between two almost-strangers?”

“If you asked me a month ago, I would have said no.” Her words made his heart beat a little faster.

“And now?” He held his breath waiting for his wife’s response. Anaisa looked at Trace carefully, her eyes mesmerizing him as his stomach churned. After several seconds, she broke off the intense gaze and looked down, disappointing him greatly.

“There are still secrets between us,” She paused and pressed her lips together, “but I would say… I am not without hope.”

His heart leapt, and a smile nearly split his face. That was enough. That through all this mystery and intrigue and deception, she had hope for them. For their marriage.

With a glance towards the princess’s door to make sure it was still tightly shut, Trace reached out his hand to take Anaisa’s. She startled slightly, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m glad,” He told her. “I’m… hopeful, as well.”

The moment lingered, with an enchanting shade of pink tingeing Anaisa’s cheeks as Trace watched.

He was drawn to her, immensely. Her nightmares made him protective of her. The purity of her love for her sister wrenched his heart with compassion. The unpredictability of her temper intrigued and amused him. The strength with which she had come through such a difficult life without breaking under the weight of it merited all his admiration.

Trace knew he could easily be persuaded to fall in love with her, but with so many secrets between them still, was his hope foolish?

“Did you… want to share anything that’s weighing on you?” He dared to ask. He had slowly revealed parts of himself, shown her some of the blackmail letters, and included her in his task. Anaisa had been fairly tight-lipped about her past. He still didn’t know what secret was being held over her head as potential blackmail.

Once the question left his mouth, he realized how desperately he wanted her trust. She chewed on her lip a moment, as if weighing her words.

“I do have something I would like to share,” She spoke slowly, lowering her voice. “I hope you will not be angry with me for not saying it sooner.”

He waited, holding his breath, afraid she would change her mind. He nodded gently for her to continue.

“That day in the fabric shop. In town,” She began, and he was thrown into confusion. He thought she would reveal something from before they met, not after.

“Yes?” He looked at her intently.

“That was not the first time I saw Conlan. I was uncertain at first, but after the next encounter we had, I am confident that I have seen him before.” She looked into Trace’s face. He tried not to feel hurt that she had kept this from him before. He had secrets, too, even if he had shared more than she had so far.

He knew he should set that aside and be grateful that she was sharing now.

“Where did you see him before?” His voice was gentle.

“I saw him with an evil nobleman named Barnabas.” She lingered. “I was… in the street. Conlan was asking Barnabas if there was any mail he could deliver for him.”