13
The very next day she paced on the stone library floors wondering how could she get to the bottom of the situation. The tap tap tap of her gait echoed in the cavernous room. She could ask Lord Tarquin bluntly of what he knew of her but the infuriating man was not the most easy person to talk to. He would either throw the information in her face or conceal it enough to make her quiver with wrath.
Jza was certain Lord Tarquin did not know who she was. His temperament had not changed in the slightest or maybe, just maybe, he was playing her for a fool in his wretched game of trying to break her. It haunted her mind the implications of his discovery. Was it possible he had found more paintings of her. Were any of them with the Princesses? She barely spent any time in their company so there was a chance she could have been eliminated from any group portraits.
Even her rooms were far removed from the Princesses because of how severely they ostracised her from the beginning. They would spill their drinks on her new gowns and let everyone believe Jza was so uncivilised she could not keep them clean for an hour. They would hide or break her belongings and call her irresponsible. It was when they started misplacing their own belongings and blaming her that she was taken away from their shared quarters. Her father had been clear it was not as a punishment but for her own protection. He knew she was truthful.
Her own room was smaller than her former one. It had no separate seating room but one combined with her bedroom so she could only entertain her most closest friends. It also had no balcony and only a small window but it had the peace she yearned for. She was safe in her own little space with her meagre belongings. Her father had asked her to decorate it with her own choices and she had chosen green, silk wallcoverings to adorn her cosy room.
Jza continued her pacing feeling the rope tighten on her neck. The man was just too curious to let her identity be a non-issue. He was hunting her as he had hunted her since the day they had lost this castle to him. She could sense his metaphorical teeth at the nape of her throat just itching to draw blood. His moments of calm were just a facade. He would not rest until her identity lay on his feet for him to stamp on.
Her feet paused as she realised there were no shadow under her door. She looked outside the massive library windows and discerned the guard was switching with another fellow. They tended to do so at this time of day. It was in that moment a thought flitted through her panicked mid which was so stupid, so selfish. If caught she would most certainly lose the tatters of freedom in her grip.
She placed her book on the desk with false calmness. Her head and mind were bursting with the possibility that she could use this moment to escape. She was rarely ever left alone and if there was going to be any chance this was it. Her maid was also absent that day due to one ailment or the other. This was a chance in a million.
But what about the locket she thought. How could she think to leave it behind. Another selfish thought marinated in her head. Surely the man was too dense to figure it out. To him it was just a sentimental bauble of no worth. If his immense curiosity had not led him to the locket's truth now then why would her absence. She could escape, hide, find her father, who would consequently defeat Tarquin and take the locket off his dead body.
Before she knew it her body had crossed the room and near the door. Her hand shook as she touched the intricate door handle and then the world exploded in a bright disarray for colours. It was all in her mind since the room was quiet as it had been. Jza's limbs burned and she fell to rough floor with an ominous thud.
_______________________________
The world swayed when she opened her eyes. The gold and green blurs danced across her mind as she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Her hand reached her forehead and it was damp to the touch. Her head was resting on a silk pillow.
She knew he was around. He always was around when there was trouble. Her eyes finally began to clear up and the dark blob at the edge of her vision began to solidify.
"Good Afternoon, my Lady Ashbrook?"
"Not quite," She replied primly smoothing her skirts. Her bare feet greeted her from the end of her clothing and she found herself amused imagining the great Lord Tarquin at her feet, prying off her shoes, like a lowly servant. She expected to be in familiar surroundings but the blood drained away from her face as she looked above. The greenness of the room left her nauseous. She leaned heavily against her pillow trying to catch her breath. It was done. He had found her room. She should have escaped as soon as she had the chance and now she was caught.
"H- How d-did?" She could not complete her sentence the knot in her throat blocking her voice.
"I'm getting closer, aren't I?"
She closed her eyes and strengthened her resolve. Maybe all was not lost and she chose her words carefully, "Maybe."
"My industrious little servants were busy examining all the rooms and look what they brought me," Whatever he held in his fingers he brought forward. His feet were soundless on the hard marble.
It was a painting of her during her come out ball. It was a sweet little sketch done by a courtier's young daughter who was only learning how to dabble in the arts. It was hardly accurate since all her features were exaggerated to make her look like a beauty of the highest order. She was not and had never looked so ethereal but the bashful girl had been so pleased with her creation Jza had not uttered a word of criticism. She had kept the painting on her desk under the glass.
The Lord watched her with his amber eyes.
"Are you delighted at your new finds? First my paintings and now my room. You must have searched it thoroughly to seek my identity. Do you not have a war to win?"
"I have my hobbies," The man shrugged casually, "It was not you my men searched for. You are not as important as you think. All the rooms are under scrutiny even the attic space. Information is all the power one needs to win a war and I have vowed for it to be all mine."
"You had Raymond to thank for then, for helping you capture the castle? I know that cur betrayed us."
Tarquin smiled with all his teeth on show as he folded his arms complacently, "If you think he is the only traitor... Not everyone is like you, ready to die for the country and King."
Jza limbs burned at the memory of the moment she had tried to run. How ashamed was she at thought of her traitorous mind to just run into the wild and abandon the Royal Princesses to their fate. Even now the regret of being unable to leave the room at that moment was a disappointment. She nowhere as noble as the man had implied.
"What is the vow that you speak of?" He asked still watching her bruised face.
"Me? I daresay I do not know what you speak of,"The Princess was still puzzled by his question. She tried to sit up but her limbs still felt heavy. The man's hand darted forward to steady her but he stopped himself swiftly.
"I found you unconscious, feverish in the library. You were speaking gibberish as I carried you here. I only understood just one word from your mouth."
Jza was struck by his words. Was that the reason why she could not escape? Was the vow she had bonded herself to making things difficult. Was the bond so sentient it would injure her if she dared to break it. She knew of the ceremony and of how it was performed but she did not know the consequences of not following through with the bond.
"I have vowed many things. How should I know what I remembered in my moment of fraility."
"My Lady, I am sure you do not mistake me for a fool. You were talking about bonding to a vow. It is not child's play you talk off."
Jza noted his change of address as well as the lack of sarcasm to her title. Her rooms were not in the Royal quarters but they were close. He now knew she was not a plain little miss. His speech indicated his new knowledge.
"I know very little about bonding to vows," She replied truthfully.
Tarquin eyes glowed with barely contained fury but he paused. His hands unclenched and his body relaxed like a puppet divorced from his master, "Stop missing your meals. I do not care if you starve yourself but finding you lying prone here and there is not what I wish to do in my free time.
The man instead walked up to her ornate wardrobe and started browsing through her belongings. If he wanted some signs of her identity in her more plain outfits then he was looking in the wrong direction. She did not keep her jewelry in her room nor any important papers. Everything was in her father's multiple safes and she was certain her father had disposed of all the parchments before he left the castle. Tarquin might have been luckier in finding information if his father had been a more lax ruler.
"Have you not made any bonds to your vows as yet? To your country, I mean. King Samuel bonded his vow to the kingdom when he was made king," Jza looked at her captor's sharp profile with curiosity.
"No, Never. That is not meant to be. I just have one vow to make. Why waste it on what is already mine."
"Are you saving it for your future wife?" The girl was incredulous. In her society people only saved vows for two important things. Either their professions or their marriages. It would be amusing if the man was a romantic.
Her words entertained the man greatly. His shoulders shook with mirth, "Finish this Ball and maybe I shall show you."
"No one finds a wife just by attending a Ball. While I'm sure the candidates are there, you must court the fine young Ladies. It will take time," Jza lectured him on propriety. She needed to save whatever poor young girl that caught his fancy.
"I told you I was raised in the Harem. I know nothing of social niceties beyond what was taught to me by the women there. You should tell me all there is to courting. I should add that to your Ball research."
Jza made a sour face. How was she going to turn a brute into a gentleman? That was an impossible task. He should have just asked her to give him the moon.
"How come you do not know polite society? The Somerluins would never allow there crown Prince to be raised with the Harem. I know at least that much," Jza asked before she could stop to consider how inappropriate the conversation was. He would never expose something so personal to her.
"I was not always the crown Prince," He revealed, much to her surprise.
"They say you killed to get the throne," Jza did not have the courage to mention she knew about his father. But it was implied. She knew that he understood her meaning.
He did not look the least bit surprised that even in her confinement she knew more than he had presumed. His eyes caught hers with a gaze that could freeze lakes in the middle of summer.
"I would kill anyone for my mother's honour. My father was no exception."
