Redemption by M J Marlow (classic novels for teens txt) 📖

and Marius listened to their children. He looked at Marius. “Such feelings will end soon enough.”
“I think it is a belief that should be encouraged, Father,” Justin replied tightly. He frowned as Marit jumped at the sound of his voice. “I hope I do not frighten you, my lady. It would not be an auspicious start to our union.”
“Our union?”
“You were told that you were to wed, surely?” Justin frowned and looked past her to her father, the king, who was regaling king Jozef with some old war story.
“I was not told who I was to wed,” Marit told him, the confusion in her voice drawing his attention back to her. She found she liked having his beautiful blue eyes on her. The frown eased and the smile returned to his handsome face. “Only why I was to wed.”
“I am as pleased as you are,” Justin said as he took her hand and kissed it, “to find my future mate is easy on the eye.” He saw her blush and he was enchanted. “You are a delightful child, Princess.”
“And you,” Marius’ voice cut in coldly, “are a presumptuous pup.” They looked over at him and saw his frown. “You will refrain from pawing my child like one of your sluts, boy.”
“I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty,” Justin replied, letting go of Marit’s hand with great difficulty. “Your Highness, forgive me if I took liberties.”
“I was not aware that it was a liberty,” Marit told him honestly. “Father, I am at a disadvantage here. I do not know the rules.”
“It shall be the role of your ladies to teach them to you,” her father replied. “Let us say for now that no man is allowed to touch you except your doting sire.” He laid his hand on hers as he saw her frown. “Do not let it sadden you, child. You will know the prince’s touch when you become his bride.” He saw her blush and he was enchanted with his child. Knowing what she had been through, it was amazing she could still blush like an innocent. “Allow the prince to entertain you with tales of his travels while you finish your meal.”
Marit nodded and turned back to Justin, who was eyeing her father with some anger. She wanted to touch him; to assure herself that he was real and not a figment of her imagination. But she had just been told that he could not touch her, so she assumed the reverse was true as well. She contented herself with the thought that she would soon belong to this handsome man. She picked at her food as she listened to his tales of travel and discovery with some jealousy. She had only known the village until she had been brought here. Music began to play and she looked across the table to see a band of troubadours moving in. Servants were moving aside the tables as the nobles began to gather elsewhere.
“There will be dancing now,” Justin told her, “to celebrate your safe return to your father.” He saw her frown and knew why. “Your Majesty,” he said to Marius. “I believe your child would prefer an early night to the dancing.”
“You may spend an hour in each other’s company,” Marius told Marit and Justin. “Your ladies await you in the gardens, daughter. They shall entertain you while you get to know your future husband.”
Justin rose to his feet as a servant pulled out Marit’s chair. He offered her his arm and she laid her hand on it, shyly. As if she feared she was breaking the rules, he guessed. He escorted her out to the gardens where Sysha and the other ladies were waiting with their instruments. Marit sat down on a bench and Justin stood nearby, admiring her beauty. He watched as she asked Naji if she could handle the woman’s instrument. Her long fingers strummed the strings and the smile of delight on her face made his heart sing in joy. Her laughter was music itself, he thought as he listened.
“Do you play an instrument, my lord prince?”
“I had little time for such niceties, my princess,” Justin told her sadly, “except when I was younger. My tutor told me I should stick to swords and daggers, for my fingers mutilated the strings.”
“You can’t be any worse than I am, lord prince,” Marit’s laughter cascaded around him and eased his stiffness. He had never felt such ease around a woman before. “Show me how you mutilate the strings.”
“If it will please you, my lady,” Justin bowed his head.
Justin held his hand out to Celia, and the small blonde woman handed over her lute. He strummed the strings and began to play. Far from mutilating the strings, his fingers danced nimbly and with great expertise. Marit shook her head at him for leading her on so falsely and his smile widened. It died as his aide came to retrieve him at the end of the hour. He took Marit’s hand in his and kissed it as he bowed.
“My lady,” he said softly. “I look forward to our next meeting with great anticipation.”
Marit nodded, her throat choked with emotion. She watched him leave until she could no longer see him and heard the laughter of her ladies. She blushed, knowing they had seen her pining after the prince like a lovesick girl. But wasn’t that what she was; a lovesick girl. She was going to be married to this handsome prince, like she was a character in one of the old tales that Susa’s mother used to tell her when she and Susa were little. It was so unreal to her; she kept expecting to wake up and find herself on her way to the man Horis had sold her to.
“The thought of an arranged marriage does not displease you as much as it once did, my lady?” Sysha laughed as she saw Marit’s blush deepen. The ladies accompanied her to her quarters and sat down a few moments longer. “He is a good and honorable man. He will make you an excellent husband.”
Marit sat down and Celia brought over the lute and showed her how to play it. Marit was pleased to find she picked up the skill readily and was soon playing a simple tune that the other women sang the words to. Her father strode in, interrupting their laughter. The women curtsied and left the gardens at his sign. He came to sit next to his daughter and she showed him what she had just learned. He smiled absently and patted her hand.
“You are weary, Father,” Marit said as she caught his mood. She set the lute aside and looked at him seriously. “May I do anything to help?”
“You are doing it, child,” Marius replied, patting her hand again. “He is a fine man. I believe you will be happy with each other.”
“But you are worried, Father,” Marit said, knowing it was true. “Is there going to be trouble? Someone who does not wish this alliance to go through?”
“You are an intelligent and perceptive child,” Marius smiled at her. He stroked her hair, remembering her mother. “If only your mother could have been here with us.”
“Tell me about her, Father,” Marit asked, knowing he wished a change of subject. “Am I like her?”
“You favor her greatly, my daughter,” Marius smiled at her gratefully. For the next several moments he told her of her mother, Margarete, and their life together from courtship to her untimely death. “She would have been so proud of you, Marit.” He rose to his feet and kissed her on the forehead. “I know I am.”
Marit watched him go, wondering why he could not talk freely to her of the threat looming over her and the alliance. He saw her as a helpless child, she realized, and he was not that far off. She knew nothing of kings and alliances, she knew only hard work and whippings. She smiled as she thought of the way Justin had looked at her with increasing respect and delight. She was blushing as she made her way out onto the balcony of her chambers and enjoyed the feel of the night air on her skin. Sysha called her in and she moved away from the railing just as an arrow struck where her body had been.
“Princess!” Sysha cried as Marit fell backwards in her haste to be off the balcony. She saw the arrow and picked it up, frowning. She took it to the guards and one of them went running. “Are you all right, my lady?”
“It was a warning,” Marit told her, shaking at her near escape. “Someone does not wish me to marry.” She accepted the cup of wine Celia brought to her and sipped at it. She made a face at the unfamiliar flavor and set it aside. “What do you think my father will do?”
“Lock you in your rooms with no way out except under heavy guard?” Sysha saw Marit’s look of horror. “Whatever he feels will keep you safe, Princess,” she amended as she patted the girl’s hand. “It is his duty as your father to see you safe to your marriage.”
“I am not used to having someone care for my welfare, Sysha,” Marit sighed. “It makes me feel safe and shackled at the same time.”
“Welcome to the life of a noblewoman, my lady,” Sysha smiled briefly. She frowned over at the balcony. “We are going to have to close the shutters now. No more strolling out for a breath of night air.” She saw Marit redden in shame. “You were within your rights to be there, Princess. It is the assassin who was in the wrong.” She nodded to Celia. “The hour grows late, my lady. Let us help you ready yourself for bed.”
Marit allowed them to help her out of her court garments and into a sheer silk nightgown of palest blue. A garment of deep blue velvet and delicate silver embroidery on the high collar and down the edges of the open sides was belted over this. Slippers of blue velvet and embroidery were placed on her feet. Her wavy black hair was left loose around her; falling in a silken curtain to her knees. Celia combed it through and braided it into a coronet around her head with deep blue and silver cords.
“Sleep well, my lady,” Sysha smiled as Marit laid down and the curtains around the posts were drawn closed. “I shall return to help Celia and Naji assist you in the morning.”
Marit nodded and closed her eyes. She fell asleep quickly and found herself dreaming of Justin and his quick smiles, his loving looks. As night continued, those dreams changed and she was tossing and whimpering as she saw him in torment. She knew it was because of her, and she could not bear it. She sat up, tears streaming down her face, and pulled back the curtains. Naji and Celia were asleep in a side chamber. The shutters had been closed to the balcony and were fastened tight. So Marit pulled on her slippers and the night robe she had laid at the foot of her bed and moved out of her room. The guards followed her like silent shadows as she went down to the kitchens. A young boy servant jumped to his feet and brought her some cheese and fruit. He filled a cup with juice and set it down next to the plate for her.
“May I join you, little cousin?”
Marit looked up and saw Tavin leaning against the doorframe. His hair was tousled from sleep and his shirt lacings were loosed, exposing his chest. Her cousin was an exceptionally well-formed man, Marit found herself thinking as she