The Heart of a Wielder (Book One of The Wielders Trilogy) ✔️

Chapter Seven

Maren was about to sit down to dinner when there was a sharp knock at her door. It was a few days after her dinner with the royal family. They had been mercifully quiet days, but she was coming to expect disruptions two or three times a week.

She answered the door and was not terribly surprised to find the Prince. It was not as if she had other callers.  But she was surprised he was calling upon her so late. Surely, it was well past the appropriate time to parade in the gardens.

"Your Highness," she greeted, bobbing a curtsy.

"I am tired of dining alone," he announced.

Maren blinked at him, she had no idea what he was trying to say.

"I'm sorry?" she said.

The Prince exhaled loudly. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Oh!" Maren was surprised, that was not at all what she expected.

"All right, let me just —" she gestured at the meal laid out on her dining table.

"Yes, of course," he said and then added, "May I assist you?"

"No, thank you," she said, moving her plates and things back onto a tray the staff had left behind.

There was a somewhat awkward shuffle at the door as he held it open for her, and she carried the tray, but then she wasn't sure where he had been eating and needed him to lead the way. He led her through the receiving room and into a smaller room with a large dining table. It was actually rather cozy with more of the same dark wood paneling that was in the receiving room but without the garish gilded furniture. There was a large chandelier giving off low light.

The Prince's dinner things were at one end of the table, and Maren set down her tray nearby. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Maren felt the urge to make conversation, but was not quite sure what the boundaries were for her behavior. They seemed to be constantly shifting, and she was cautious of overstepping them.

"How...was your day?" the Prince asked hesitantly.

Maren paused. He had never asked her such a question.

"Ah, fine...uneventful," she answered. "And yours?"

"Also...ah...fine," he responded.

Maren had had better conversations with horses.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," she said, attempting to hide her enthusiasm for the notion. She hoped wine would make things somewhat less strained.

He looked at her with amusement and she blushed.  She had perhaps not done an impressive job of hiding her thoughts.

"Our circumstances are somewhat...awkward," the Prince admitted, pouring the wine.

"That is certainly one way to describe it," Maren scoffed.

They sipped their wine.

"I must admit, I am not accustomed to having...ah... guests," he told her.

"So I've heard," she replied. Then, deciding that she might learn something useful if she mentioned it, said, "I had assumed that you would not have chosen anyone to join your household."

Everyone, even people in the North, knew the Crown Prince had stopped choosing women in the Selection years ago. It had generated a fair bit of talk and even speculation that his interests lay in a far more scandalous direction.

"Well, you didn't leave me much choice," he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him quizzically.

"When you -" he gestured at her hands "- I was fairly certain Kieran noticed. I don't imagine that someone like you would enjoy being in the household of the head of the Trackers."