Page 3 of The Marked Princess

“His entire caravan was massacred by Antoski soldiers! He was the only survivor, practically a babe, when my parents took him in. Surely, you're not so cold that you would begrudge such a child the warmth and security of a home?”

“Of course not. I just don't see why his home had to be in the royal castle.”

“It's not like he was in the nursery with me.”

“Really, Josselyn, I do not wish to discuss your guard with you. Be a dutiful niece, for once in your life, and make yourself presentable.”

With that, the Duchess turned and swept out of the room.

Josselyn sighed and looked over at her maid.

“Royalty, am I right?”

The girl bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Shall I help you into your dress now, Your Highness?” She asked, reaching for the blue gown Lady Merridale had laid out.

“Why, yes, Jane, you may.”

Then, with an impish grin, she added, “The green one hanging in the wardrobe there should do quite nicely, don't you think?”

She fell back onto the bed and raised her marked arm above her head.

“Don't worry Mama, no one is going to keep this wildcat in a cage.”

Chapter Two

An hour later, Josselyn found herself standing in front of the large, wooden doors leading to the royal meeting room. Her hair was artfully piled on top of her head, with a simple gold tiara resting above her forehead. Her deep green, silk gown draped elegantly over her lean figure.

“Your Highness.”

Alex stepped forward, pulling the doors open and bowing Josselyn into the room. She glided past him, head high and shoulders straightened. He followed behind her, taking up his position by the door.

Josselyn crossed the large room, which was lined on the left with several windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, allowing sunlight to flood the room. The other walls were covered in tapestries, depicting Eldour's long and rich history.

As she approached the meeting table, one of the tapestries caught her eye. It portrayed a battlefield, crowded with fighting men and those already fallen. In the middle of the chaos was a single female archer riding astride an impossibly large wolf. Something about the woman called to her, as if she were looking at a kindred spirit. Perhaps it was simply because she was a woman unafraid to be a leader amid a sea of men.

“Ah, Princess Josselyn, thank you for joining us. Please, have a seat.”

Lord Burgundy's nasal voice interrupted her musings, and she tore her eyes away from the wall to join the people already seated at the long, wooden table.

“Your Majesty.”

She bowed her head towards her father, King Frederic deLure of Eldour, who sat at the table's head. Lord Burgundy, his chief adviser, and General Weston, the head of his army, sat across from her, to the king's left. She greeted them both in turn before turning to the chair on her right.

“Lady Merridale, good afternoon.”

She held back a grin as her aunt's eyes narrowed, her lips thinning out into a straight line before biting out a response.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

King Frederic reached out to give Josselyn's hand an affectionate pat.

“You look well, today, daughter. Green suits you.” A tender light lit his eyes as he added, “It was your mother's favorite, you know.”

Josselyn's chest warmed with pleasure at her father's words. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Lady Merridale pursed her lips, looking toward the closed door.

“It seems we're only missing our visitors from Antos.” She sniffed. “I do hope they aren't planning to keep us waiting for long. It would be inexcusably rude to Your Majesty.”