His Secret Wife

Spring - 32nd Year of the Rule of William Farview. W32 Prince Ronin had to admit that the people of Veren knew how to throw a party. The summer Palace’s ballroom was filled with people in the most elaborate costumes he’d ever seen. There were birds seemed a popular choice with peacocks and swans for the ladies, or what he assumed were ladies that wafted around, great feathered plumage attached to their arms, or representative in yards of sparkling cloth. Many of the men seemed to prefer wilder animals, wolves, lions and even a few dragons. There was plenty of drink, carried around by waiting staff in tunics of deep forest green decorated with a single silver feather. The food looked, and smelt, delicious. Laid out on long tables, with the same eager staff ready to serve. But their eyes followed him around the room, as did the eyes of everyone else in attendance, although some of the Veren nobility at least pretended to be subtle. Even the music was good, lively and well timed. Loud enough for dancing, without drowning out one’s thoughts or any attempt at conversation. It was just a shame he didn’t want to be there. His own costume was simple, a plain mask covering his eyes and tied at the back of his head. He wore plain black breeches tucked into wide, calf-high, leather boots. A white shirt hung from broad shoulders and a red sash was tied around his middle, complete with cutlass. He had been sent as an ambassador from Milany, where his Father ruled at King. He’d jumped at the opportunity to see beyond the ocean and explore a new country. To meet new people and experience their customs. He was especially keen to see the Griffins that were only found in Veren, and speak with their legendary riders. ‘Why are you sulking?’ He flinched before counting to ten. He hadn’t noticed the Shadow appear at his side. But then, no one was supposed to notice the Shadow. In reality, he should probably just be pleased that his friend George Thade had been allowed to accompany him to Veren. In reality, he was just annoyed that he hadn’t noticed the man approach. George was good at sneaking, sometimes too good. But Ronin knew that George didn’t deserve his short temper. ‘I didn’t expect…’ Ronin collected up a glass from a server as they moved through, staring down at the rich red liquid, ‘I didn’t expect every single, single woman to be throwing herself in my path,’ he muttered and George laughed. Along with his perfectly matched green to the Veren, George appeared at home in the Summer Palace, although Ronin knew for a fact that he’d never been there before either. But that was George, one of his many, special skills. ‘What?’ Ronin grunted, ‘that’s why I was glad to be away from Milany. I thought Veren would be better.’ ‘You truly didn’t know about the marriage laws in Veren?’ ‘I didn’t know,’ Ronin sighed. He’d been shocked during their briefing before the ball. They’d only arrived at their summer lodgings the day before, and he’d been looking forward to a summer of social activities. Before he’d learnt that compromising the virtue of any young woman, meant that he would most likely be forced to marry her! It felt barbaric. How was he supposed to get to know anyone, when even a rumour of impropriety, see his freedom stripped away. Did the Veren guard their daughters so fiercely that a man might barely look in their direction? But in the bustling dancefloor there were endless unmarried women, dancing the night away. Were the men of Veren not afraid that they’d be forced into an unwelcome marriage? Or was it only visiting Prince’s who were lectured until they thought they were going to burst with fury. Ronin had left the lecture given by the Duke of Runecliff, chief advisor of etiquette for the Veren nobility, and wanted to tear his own ears off. ‘You’re a Prince,’ he heard George roll his eyes, rather than look at him. His friend was wearing the same dark green as the servers, and lounged against the wall. Looking out at the dance floor and the busy dancers as they laughed and spun past. ‘The quicker you accept your fate, the happier you will be.’ ‘What fate would that be then?’ Ronin couldn’t resist turning to glare at his friend then. ‘Marry a Princess, or any single noblewoman and make lots of babies.’ ‘You first,’ the Prince returned. ‘Alas, I am but a humble commoner,’ George grinned and folded his arms over his chest, ‘there’s no noblewoman that’ll have me.’ ‘You’re right, there’s barely any woman that’ll have you,’ Ronin retorted, prickly and George smirked. Realising he was getting under the Prince’s skin. Something that was usually hard to do. ‘You really didn’t expect this?’ The Shadow pushed. Ronin set his glass down again. He’d lost his taste for it. He felt the annoyance stir within his chest and shook his head. He moved, ready to leave his friend behind. ‘Where are you going?’ George shifted, stepping after him, ‘there’s at least a dozen Mama’s looking to corner you.’ ‘To have some fun,’ Ronin shot back over his shoulder, summoning an air of carefree abandon and a broad smile, ‘anyway I can.’ ‘Don’t break any hearts,’ George groaned, ‘I’m here for a holiday, Ron. I’d prefer to avoid any diplomatic incidents.’ Ronin looked back at his friend, lifting his arms in a careless shrug. As if to suggest that what would be would be. He wouldn’t be forced into marriage, if that’s what his Father had thought would happen in Veren. The Prince turned then, making a careful, but steady way through the crowd. He could smile, nod politely, behind his dark mask his face was unseen. He was a stranger here in a room of people who had made themselves strangers to the folk they’d known their whole lives. Perhaps that was the point, he wondered. Maybe that’s why masked balls were so tantalising in Veren. They gave the nobility a chance to push the restrictions of their rule. Tasting danger was intoxicating. But Ronin had no intention of being poisoned by it. He made his way out of a side door and onto a patio. The night was still young, but the stars were thrown across the sky. Shining and glittering overhead. A crescent moon hung low over long thin lake that stretched away into the distance. He could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the direction of the water. It had been his intention to walk the perimeter and clear his head. But apparently, it was a place for secret lovers to risk their futures. Ronin turned instead towards the jumble of buildings that served the immense Summer Palace. It was one of the things he admired about Veren really. How they used wood in all of their buildings. The Palace was made entirely from wood and only two stories high at some points. So in a sense, it was really a large and sprawling villa. But without knowing his way around, he preferred to stay outside. He circled the outside of the ballroom, moving further away until the music faded. The stable block was another long low building. There was one stone room, where the hay and straw were stored and just outside he could see a small campfire, surrounded by various footmen, drivers and stablehands, crowded around the flames enjoying a hand of cards. Passing a bottle between themselves. Ronin counted at least twenty different drivers in livery and frowned, hoping that all of the nobility who weren’t staying in the Palace, made it home safely. But it was a moving shadow that caught his eye. Years of watching George hone his craft, had made him particularly good at spotting someone trying to be stealthy. Especially when they weren’t very good at it. Ronin glanced at the collection of stablehands, then back at the shadow moving along the wall. No one else had noticed. He rolled his shoulders back and set off after the shape. Well, he’d wanted to find adventure in Veren. He followed the shadow into the darkness of the stable. Watching as they moved slowly past the shafts of light the came through each arched window. Whoever they were, they were slender, like a youth. Taller than most men though. Masked to hide their identity. They moved carefully, but with determination to get where they were going. Down through the stables, where there had to be a hundred horses. Some picked up their ears as Ronin passed, some huffed and snorted, but he didn’t take his gaze from the figure in front. What were they doing? Were they a thief? They weren’t stopping to search saddlebags and belongings as he would have expected. Were they here to steal a horse? His heart thumped with excitement and adrenaline. Whoever they were, he doubted they’d be a match for him physically. Would he be hailed as a hero, for stopping a horse thief? He nearly stopped following at that moment. The last thing he needed was anything that made him seem more attractive to the women of Veren. But catching the thief was the right thing to do. They were half way through the block, and any sound from the party, and the card game outside had faded. Leaving him with only the sound of his own breath, the light tred of his shoes over a floor paved with slabs and strewn with straw. The figure paused for a moment, silhouette against the light before they turned, reaching into a saddle bag. Bent over the strap. It was his chance. Ronin closed the distance between them at a run. But the figure turned, astonished as he caught up to them. They raised their right arm, weapon in hand to strike. But he parried with his wrist and the weapon flew, spinning through the air, metal glinting in the moonlight before being lost to the straw beyond. But he was grappling with the figure. They were stronger than he’d expected, letting out a gasp of frustration as they wrestled. It didn’t matter, he was still stronger and he’d been training in combat his entire life. The figure lurched to the left and he shifted his weight, throwing them down into the straw, grateful that this seemed to be the only stall without a horse. He followed his advantage, kneeling over the thief. Fighting to pin down their wrists and subdue them. Only it felt strange to pin them like this, and his breath was rapid. His body recognising what his brain had not yet realised. ‘Get off me!’ It was a gasp, but not the low throaty growl he had expected from a horse-thief, ‘don’t make my hurt you!’ They threatened, twisting in his hold. They slammed an arm against the bend in his elbow and he was pushed sideways. The thief rolled, scrambling away, but he had them around the hips and pulled the back down again. He rolled with them, panting as he pinned them once more and felt their frustration in the coiled strength of their limbs. ‘Thief!’ He commanded, ‘stop fighting me!’ ‘Thief!?’ They were incredulous, angry, confused. Their voice was far higher than he’d expected. Ronin blinked. ‘Why else would you hide your face?!’ He demanded and the figure beneath him stilled. ‘Are you an i***t?’ He didn’t move, this wasn’t going the way he had expected it to. ‘You’re wearing a mask as well!’ The figure beneath protested. Ronin growled then. He reached up, slid his thumb between their ear and the strap of their mask and pulled it away with a firm tug. He blinked again. Body hot and hard and way ahead of his thoughts. He was kneeling astride the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across. Pulling the mask free had seen her long dark hair strewn across the straw in curls and half-formed ringlets. She had warm, dark eyes, narrowed with anger as she watched him. He felt awful, for a moment, for tackling her to the ground. But, there was no fear in her expression. Only calm calculation as she assessed him. ‘Take off your mask…’ her voice was soft, curious.