Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 119: Fit For a Queen

22 June, 1359. Magdaline Castle, Islia

King Edward watched the young couple as they approached his throne and bowed, fingers intertwined. They seemed to go everywhere handclasped together these days, he thought peevishly. Both wore almost identical expressions, to his amusement - a mixture of polite respect and wariness.

They made a stunning pair, Edward admitted grudgingly, their individual beauty complementing the other.

The girl was as lovely as an exotic forest nymph, exquisite of face and lush of body.

And William...the young rogue was heartbreakingly handsome, looking so much like his father at that age. He knew it, of course. Though he didn’t have Johan’s explosive temper, Edward mused.

The king watched the young couple for a moment longer, before revealing the reason he’d called them to his rooms.

"Negotiations with the Kingdom of Moraigth have now concluded, to both sides’ satisfaction. King Kenneth has signed and returned the treaty that will accompany your marriage and I shall place my own signature on it today." King Edward allowed the barest hint of a smile appear on his face.

Princess Camilla quietly nodded as if she’d expected no different. William however, looked visibly relieved, as if he’d feared negotiations might collapse and lead to a broken betrothal. The king found this amusing from a youth who’d discarded countless ladies in the past without a second thought.

"It is as expected then, uncle." William grinned.

Edward nodded. "Yes. There was no doubt in my mind Kenneth would see things my way, especially when Islia is negotiating from a position of power."

"Your uncle and I have also reached an agreement on your dowry, Princess." King Edward continued, refusing to let his eye drift down her lithe yet shapely form. "It will include no land, of course."

Camilla’s eyes flicked his way briefly, though her voice was mild. "Then I won’t be inheriting my father’s duchy, Sire?"

Edward bared his teeth in a sly smile. "Of course not. It reverts to the Crown of Moraigth. Your father made Arlington a wealthy duchy and your uncle has no interest in loosening his hold on it. He did however, agree that you should be compensated for its loss. He has agreed to provide you a dowry of half a million gold ducats instead. A queen’s dowry, wouldn’t you agree?"

William raised his eyebrows is surprise. "That’s a rather generous amount from a king known to be a miser."

"Kenneth has also agreed all pieces of jewellery that formed part of your late mother’s trousseau will also be passed over to you, Princess." the king continued. "According to Kenneth, his own queen has no interest in the pieces as she finds their designs too barbarian for her delicate sensibilities."

Camilla gave a short, humourless laugh. "Indeed. I’ll have to thank Her Majesty for her delicate sensibilities."

"There are a few conditions to this generosity, of course." King Edward smirked.

William smirked back. "Yes, of course there are. And what are these conditions?"

Kin Edward looked directly into the girl’s eyes. "You’re never to cross the border into Moraigth again without His Majesty’s express invitation, which we all know will never come."

Camilla nodded silently.

"You’re forbidden to communicate directly with any Moraigthian lord, no matter how minor their rank or how inconsequential the matter might be. All communication regarding Moraigth is to be by way of His Majesty and he’ll determine whether it needs to be further shared."

Camilla nodded again. She seemed neither surprised nor troubled by his words.

"And finally," King Edward said, "You’re to formally renounce all claims to the Moraigthian throne, both for yourself and any future offspring. That claim is to pass to the king’s beloved young daughter, bless her little soul. The Grand Council of Lords has already agreed to this and has sworn their allegiance to the baby princess."

The king noted the way Camilla’s face turned icy at his words, her full pout thinning at the mention of her infant cousin.

"I never claimed that throne for myself and I’ve never wanted it. If the lords are happy to switch their allegiance to an unwanted, unloved baby girl, that’s their choice." Camilla’s eyes narrowed and her expression was one better suited to an older, cannier woman. "And if the baby grows up and can keep that pack of ferals from tearing each other’s throats out, then I wish little Princess Margot all the luck in the world."

King Edward blinked at the hostility in her usually melodious voice. A moment later, Camilla’s expression had returned to its youthful sweetness.

William nodded calmly at her side. "All is as we expected, Sire. Is there anything else we should know about King Kenneth’s terms that create cause for concern?"

"No, that is all. You may both take your leave now."

It was not all. As the young couple were backing towards the doors, King Edward added as almost an afterthought, "His Majesty also wishes to share in the joy of your upcoming nuptials. Therefore King Kenneth has confirmed he’ll grace our court with a visit and attend the wedding. He’ll also give the bride away."

- - -

William saw Camilla’s dainty shoulders tense at the king’s final words. "Give me away?" he heard her grit out. "Like my own father would’ve done?"

Damn. William felt like kicking something in frustration. He had hoped the duplicitous son of a bitch would stay far, far away from the wedding but his prayers weren’t being answered.

King Edward tried to keep his expression neutral. "It’s not entirely unexpected. You’re his brother’s only living child. It’s natural His Majesty should take an interest in the nuptials and want to oversee such a historic union between our countries."

"My uncle hates me, Sire." Camilla’s voice was low but as sharp as a blade. "He’s not visiting with a shred of goodwill and he couldn’t care less about any historic union. He’s coming purely out of spite. And that he should insist on walking me down the aisle as my father should’ve done is...that is the ultimate insult."

"Someone has to give the bride away." the king tried to point out. "He’s your only living male relative. If not him, then who?"

"I’d rather be on the arm of Lucifer himself."

William reached out and silently touched Camilla on her back. This was going from bad to worse.

King Edward glared at the girl for her impertinence but she held his gaze defiantly. Edward finally sighed and gathered what was left of his patience. "It’s an awkward situation, I’ll admit. But I can hardly ban a crowned head from attending, especially him. I’m afraid we’ll all have to grit our teeth and bear Kenneth’s presence at our court for a few days, then you’ll never have to see him again." Edward tried to give her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. "At any rate if you do ever see him again, you’ll be my subject, not his. You’ll be free of his influence."

Camilla nodded slowly, only slightly mollified. Both men could see her eyes were nearly black with silent resentment.

Bowing quickly at the king, Willliam grabbed his betrothed’s elbow and started guiding her out of the room. As he bundled her out the doors, King Edward’s keen ears heard his nephew whisper, "Next time you speak to my uncle, I suggest avoiding mentioning the Devil himself in the conversation."

Edward snorted. The girl had spirit, he’d grant her that.

- - -

William steered Camilla down the corridor in silence, trying to put as much distance between them and the king before the inevitable deluge of angry tears and recriminations started. He knew his uncle loathed weeping women.

To be honest, he couldn’t even blame her for feeling that way. But if Kenneth was visiting, like it or not, William refused to have the man’s shadow looming over them for the next several weeks.

"Where are we going?" Camilla asked him irritably.

"You’ll see in a few moments."

Camilla wrenched her arm out of his grasp and stubbornly dug her heels in, refusing to take another step. "You have a habit of dragging me along to locations without letting me know where beforehand. Tell. Me. Now."

William raised his hands in defeat. "Alright then. We’re going to the training grounds."

"Whatever for?"

"I have something there that I think might help." William grabbed her arm and started walking again.

"What kind of help? Do you mean like poison you can feed my uncle?"

William gave her a sidelong stare. "I said I might be able to help, not that I can perform fucking miracles."

Camilla said no more until they reached the training grounds, which were empty, just as William had hoped. William saw a young male servant polishing the training swords in a corner.

"You," William waved the servant over and then gestured towards Camilla standing a little off to the side with confusion etched on her face. "Training shirt, trousers, boots. To fit the lady. Find them and bring them here immediately."

The young boy scrambled into one of the storage sheds awhile Camilla slowly turned to William, uncomprehending.