Page 92 of A Prince Among Pirates
I realize I must have been making a face. “It only just occurred to me… I’ve been calling Thomas by his first name.”
My father chuckles and lifts his fork. “You’re still learning. It hasn’t yet been a fortnight.”
Haines returns after a few minutes with a beautiful jeweled box. I set my fork down as he puts it on the table between the king and myself.
“I do hope you aren’t planning to propose,” I say as the king opens the box. “I’m not sure how appropriate that would be.”
My father laughs and removes a small, blue velvet pouch, before closing the box and handing it back to Haines. “I have something for you.” I watch as he opens the pouch, then reaches for my hand. When I offer it, he turns it palm up and drops the contents there.
Two rings glint in the sunlight. I raise my brows as I bring them close to my face to inspect them. One is solid gold, with the royal seal upon it. The other is a large, expensively cut ruby, set in a bed of small diamonds on a gold band. I swallow hard as I lift my gaze to Henry’s face.
He’s smiling at me. “Those are yours,” he says. “The royal seal for your left hand, and the ruby for your right.”
“You favor rubies,” I observe, because I don’t know what else to say.
He smiles a little wider. “Of course,” he says. “They are your birthstone.”
At that, I am stunned into silence. I am moved by theknowledge that he has chosenmybirthstone as the symbol of his reign. I swallow down my heart and slide the rings carefully onto my fingers. “I don’t know what to say…,” I whisper.
“I have loved you from afar your entire life, Christopher-Henry,” he says as he clasps my hand. “I would have recognized you as my heir from the start if I could have… but in those days I did not have my father’s favor, and I could not risk falling out with him.”
I nod, because I cannot speak.
“I am sorry it took me until now. I had to hold out hope that Eleanor would grant me a legitimate heir, but when it became clear that she could not…”
A wave of sadness washes through me. I think back to what Captain Sharpe said about Henry wanting me now only because I am useful to him. He was right; of course he was right. But I cling anyway to Henry’s promise that he loved me from the start, even if he didn’t show it. Even if he didn’t come for me.
Maybe he really did love me when I was born. It would be pretty to think thatsomeonedid.
“Thank you, Father,” I say, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it. His gaze falls to the ruby on my finger, and he seems to swell with pride. I have never had someone look at me this way, and it breaks my heart to see it now.
He clears his throat and releases my hand. “It suits you,” he says as he lifts his fork.
“May I ask you for one more thing?” I ask. “Even though you’ve already given me so much.”
Henry’s expression turns wary, and I know he thinks I mean to ask again about the envelope with my name on it. But that’s not what I want from him now. I may never see the contents of that envelope—but maybe, just maybe, they don’t have to matter anymore.
“I’d like to see my mother’s things,” I say instead. “You said you would look for them. Have you been able to find them yet?”
Henry clears his throat again and gives a sigh, as if relieved. “Oh, that,” he says. “Yes, Katherine asked me about them this morning. I had no idea you two had become so close.”
“She and Francis have been kind enough to keep me in check.”
Henry laughs and nods. “She is good at that. I will have them sent to your rooms later. There isn’t much, but perhaps you’ll find something in there that you can wear in her honor at Christmas.”
I smile and return to my breakfast. “A token in her honor would be just the thing.”
By the time I finally leave my father’s apartments, I am frustrated, tired, sad, and… determined. I have never been very good at crafting well-thought-out choices; split-second, reckless decisions have always been my forte. But in this case, I can’t quite tell which is which.
I can’t stop thinking of the expression on Sharpe’s face when I ordered him from my rooms—of the betrayal there. A shiver runs through me as I remember the cold fury in his eyes, and I am sodistracted, I very nearly collide into another body in the halls.
I stop short, and so does he. For a moment we simply stare at each other, him towering over me—though not quite as much as he used to. Instinctively, I straighten my back and tilt my chin up. “Falmouth,” I say with an air of such casual contempt that I impress even myself.
Distracted as I was, I am proud of how quickly I regained control.
His brow twitches. I know he hates that I outrank him now. I know he hates that I can speak to him without his titles. That I can take whatever I like from him.
My ex-father bows at the waist, and it’salmosta perfect bow. I suspect some defiant part of him is so revolted at the idea of obeisance to me that he finds proper form difficult.
