Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 328: Violet: Made for Sin
3 May, 1358. Magdaline Castle, Islia
Like all grand banquets held by Their Majesties, this one to celebrate Islia’s recent victory over the rebel Moraigthian forces lead by the Duke of Arlington, was extravagant.
And like at all grand banquets, Violet made a point of wearing a lavish gown bedecked in lace and pearls, with her largest diamonds hanging from her ears. She was the future queen after all, and she intended to be treated as one.
She still didn’t feel truly respected by the court. Not really. Even after so many years of marriage and having produced four healthy children, many people still considered her an undeserving upstart. The daughter of a poor duchy who’d been lucky enough to trap the eldest Devon prince into marrying her.
Her hand tucked in the crook of her husband’s arm, Violet kept her expression cold and regal as she was led through the banquet hall and to her allocated seat at the royal high table. She stared down any courtier who dared make eye contact with her or worse, any lady who tried to get Leo’s attention.
Violet sat straight backed in her chair, the very epitome of icy poise, as her eyes swept over the crowded hall. Everyone seemed in high spirits and the wine was already flowing freely among the crowd. The king himself was grinning broadly, which was fairly rare in itself.
She hadn’t really paid much attention when Leo had told her about the recent campaign - something about the Islian army helping the King of Moraigth put down a large rebellion.
Her husband and his battalion of knights had returned victorious from the barbarian north. Hell, Leo’s smug arrogance would make anyone think he’d single-handedly won the battle for Islia. He’d been talking her ear off since his return to court, recounting this or that event.
Violet had initially pretended to listen but soon stopped bothering. She wasn’t interested in warfare and seldom concerned herself with Islia’s campaigns or battles. She much preferred to focus on the victory celebrations afterwards.
But as the banquet wore on and copious drunken toasts were called out, she found herself growing bored. Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Violet ran her gaze down the high table.
Queen Celia, plump and plain, sat at King Edward’s right hand as usual. James and the sickly sweet Blanche, looking at each other as if they were the only two people in the room. Rufus sat next to James but without his own wife, having recently sent her off to one of his country houses.
Violet couldn’t really blame him. Annabel was with child and with the way she’d whined and complained, one would think that no one else since the dawn of time had ever carried a child before.
Thomas and William, the two youngest princes, always involved is some scrape or silly adventure. Leo was forever grumbling that nothing would ever force those two to grow up. And next to William...wait. Who was that?
There was an unfamiliar, dark haired young woman sitting quietly next to William. She was actually seated at King Edward’s left hand, and staring straight ahead with vacant eyes.
"Who is she?" she asked as she jabbed Leo’s side, pointing to the girl.
Leo swallowed a mouthful and followed the direction of her outstretched hand. "Oh, her. The Duke of Arlington’s daughter. Don’t you remember William introducing her to everyone earlier?" His tone was dismissive as he bit into a chicken leg with gusto.
"No. I’m introduced to so many people, I can’t be expected to remember every single nobody...wait! Are you jesting, husband? Is that really Duke Robert Stephenson’s child?" Violet’s mouth fell open as she gave the girl another look.
She did indeed look foreign, having none of the pallid blonde colouring that was considered the height of feminine beauty in Islia. Despite that, the girl was...
She was actually stunning, much to Violet’s dismay.
Infuriatingly stunning, with long, glossy locks and striking dark eyes. Her features looked as if they’d been carved to perfection by a master stonemason. And as Leo would so crudely put it, she had a mouth made for sinning.
Violet found herself taking an instant dislike to the foreign girl.
"It’s the truth." Leo spoke at her side, though she wasn’t completely focused on his gruff voice. He had the most unpleasant habit of chewing while he talked. "Will pulled the wench out of Arlen Castle before the entire thing was reduced to rubble. He brought her to Father as a hostage. It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. When he isn’t busy burying himself in some strumpet’s skirt, the lad can actually strategise. Who knew?"
"And what’s going to happen to this girl? I assume she’ll be turned into someone’s concubine?" Violet shot Leo a calculating look. If he’d already put up his hand to take the foreign girl as his bed warmer, the other princes wouldn’t be able to oppose his wishes as the eldest son.
How the hell was she going to compete in her husband’s eyes with a fresh young beauty?
"Actually, no." Leo replied. "Father has confirmed she’ll be honourably housed as his personal guest and as a royal princess. No one’s to touch her, apparently."
"Oh, really? And why’s that?" she asked. Pettiness at not having the chance to see the foreign beauty humbled, warred with relief at knowing she wouldn’t become Leo’s mistress. "I would’ve thought putting the girl to use would be another way to punish her father."
"You can’t punish a dead man, wife." Leo spoke to her has if she were a simpleton. "Besides, she may be a rebel’s daughter but she’s also the niece of our friend and ally, King Kenneth. Disrespecting her would be seen as a direct insult to him. And we need to keep that filthy pagan boor on our side, for now at least."
"I see." Violet pressed her lips into a thin line. She wasn’t a fool who didn’t understand diplomacy and strategy, no matter what her husband thought. She just wanted the satisfaction of seeing the little princess...marred a little.
The girl sat there, her face almost as pale as her white gown, like an exquisite ice sculpture. Observing everything in silence, barely touching the food on her plate. Even though she looked nothing like Ilse, there was something about the vulnerability in her eyes that reminded Violet of her sister.
That doe eyed look that made all the men want to rush around her and offer their undying protection...
Ilse had been a master at commandeering that look, at making every man around her practically salivate at the thought of being her hero. Clearly this girl was a master of it as well, the manipulative little witch.
Ugh.
Violet saw William lean over and speak briefly to the Moraigthian girl. She could see his eyes running down her body as he talked. The pagan was wearing insultingly plain gown and no veil. Was dressing like that her way of trying to offend the Islian court?
Then again, the pale gown clung to a slender yet shapely figure, her waist tiny and her hips not yet broadened by repeated births. No wonder William couldn’t seem to stop himself from staring at her. Stupid, shallow youth.
Violet had little time for William, considering the lad’s interests seemed limited to war and wenches. Typical for a spoiled Islian prince, her own husband sadly included. William continued whispering to the foreign girl, a smile like a challenge on his face.
"What’s her name?" Violet asked.
"What, who?"
"The Moraigthian wench." She bit back a sigh of frustration. This man will make you a queen one day, Violet repeated to herself, as she did often. Just endure him until then.
"Seriously, wife. You need to start paying more attention." Leo grumbled. "I don’t care for having to repeat myself around you all the time! And her name is Camilla."
"Camilla." The odd name rolled off Violet’s tongue as she pursed her lips in distaste. The defenceless girl wouldn’t last a month in this vicious, backstabbing court, she thought. And frankly, the sooner someone dirtied her reputation, the better. Then perhaps the men in the banquet hall would all stop staring at her in that ridiculous way.
William was obviously interested in tilting at that target, Violet noted. So was his cousin Tom, judging by the pathetic look on his face. Rufus was repeatedly aiming winks at the young princess. He was an utter rogue, despite having a wife.
Hell, her own husband didn’t seem immune, despite the chit being practically half his age! She’d seen Leo’s gaze rest, long and lustful, on Camilla. And this was from a man who considered Moraigthians to be no better than wild dogs.
King Edward himself had made it clear the Princess of Moraigth was as his little guest of honour for the banquet, by seating her next to him. He’d never bestowed such an honour on Violet, not even during the first days of her marriage.
So now this girl was given privileges not even given to the Crown Princess and future Queen of Islia? How absurd.
In truth, the only man at the royal high table that didn’t have his eyes fixed on the foreign chit was James and that was only because he was strangely obsessed with his own insipid wife.
Violet decided she’d have to keep a close eye on the girl. She needed to make sure the little pagan learned her place at the Islian court.
Right at the bottom of the pecking order.
