Chapter 87

Philip de Tournois’s POV

Lucius, my steward, had announced several visitors throughout the afternoon, but I had turned them all away. After returning from the frontier, after that discussion with my brother, I needed solitude.

The study remained exactly as I had left it months ago - military reports still neatly stacked on the desk, maps carefully rolled and stored in their bronze holders. Everything in perfect order, yet nothing felt right.

Three months. He had given Isabella three months to marry, or she would be married Stoneheaven.

"Any nobleman who marries her could pose a threat of armed rebellion," he had said, his eyes never leaving mine. "The combined might of her family's remaining forces and her husband's troops would be... concerning."

A bitter smile crossed my face as I recalled how he had paused then, letting the implications sink in. My brother had always been skilled at these games of words and power. He didn't need to spell it out - if I wanted Isabella, I would have to give up command of the Ironlance Knights.

The war in the Holy Land had only recently ended, and sometimes I still felt its shadow clinging to me.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Your Highness." It was Lucius's voice, measured and familiar.

"Enter."

"Your Highness," he bowed. "Sir Osric and Commander Drake have gone to the military camp to handle the victory rewards and bereavement compensations."

I nodded, climbing down from the carriage. "I'll see no visitors tonight, Lucius."

"Yes, Your Highness." He hesitated briefly. "There were several messages from-"

"Tomorrow," I cut him off, perhaps more sharply than intended.

I noticed the garden's neglect - hardly surprising given our long absence during the campaign. The roses Isabella had once admired were wild and overgrown now. Years ago, I promised her mother I would return victorious from the Holy Land as my bride-price.

Henry had known of my intentions even then. He had smiled and given his blessing, appearing every bit the supportive older brother. But that was before the Ironlance Knights had grown to their current strength, before I had taken command of all forces in the Holy Land after Marshal de Montfort's death.

In my study, I stood before the fireplace, watching the flames dance. My white clothing seemed to mock the darkness of my thoughts. One word from me would be enough - a simple declaration giving up my military command. It shouldn't have been such a difficult choice.

"I promised her mother, you know." The words escaped before I could stop them. "Before I left for the Holy Land campaign. I swore I'd return with victory as my bride-price."

Lucius remained silent, but I could feel his concerned gaze. He'd been there when I'd made that promise, had seen Lady Rosalind's rejection.

"Henry knew. He's always known how I felt about her." A bitter laugh escaped me. "He encouraged it, back then. The little brother and the de Montfort heir - a perfect match to strengthen the realm. But that was before..."

"Before the Ironlance Knights became the kingdom's strongest fighting force," Lucius finished quietly.

I turned from the window, meeting his eyes. "One word, Lucius. That's all it would take. One word to lay down command of the Knights, and I could have her. Henry would make sure of it."

"And yet?"

"And yet he chooses this method of forcing my hand." The anger I'd been suppressing all day surged up. "As if I've ever wanted his crown! As if I haven't proven my loyalty a thousand times over!"

It makes me feel really wronged. Things were better before when Henry and I could talk about anything. If he had something to tell me, he'd just say it straight without beating around the bush.

Memories of simpler times flooded back unbidden. Henry and I as boys, racing our horses through the castle grounds, no thoughts of crowns or armies between us. My sister Aurelia - Princess Aurelia now - sneaking treats from the kitchen for us both. Those days felt like another lifetime.

Lucius appeared to remember something all of a sudden and said, "The final accounts from the renovation, my lord," he said carefully.

"How bad?"

"The marble alone cost eight hundred silver coins. The artisans from Byzantine Empire charged-"

I waved him silent. "Enough. She's always been this way - father's precious rose, the youngest daughter who never learned the value of restraint." The words came out harsher than intended, and I saw Lucius wince slightly.

It was strange to think that this woman who demanded such luxury was my mother. Princess Eleanor, sister to Queen Mother Mary herself, had been little more than a shadow in my life until recently. A "godmother" to the outside world, visiting occasionally with expensive gifts and fleeting embraces. The truth of our relationship was known only to a select few: the king's bastard son and his former mistress, playing our assigned roles in public.

"She'll want to have a say in the wedding arrangements," I muttered, more to myself than to Lucius.

"My lord?"

"Isabella." Her name felt heavy on my tongue. "Mother will object, of course. A widow, even one of noble birth... it won't meet her standards of perfection."

Lucius set the ledger down carefully. "Lady Isabella's first marriage was arranged by her mother. Surely Princess Eleanor wouldn't -"

"You don't know her like I do." I resumed my restless pacing. "Everything must be the finest, the most impressive. God forbid anyone whisper that her son - settled for anything less than a maiden bride."

The renovation of mother's courtyard had been my peace offering, an attempt to smooth her transition into my household. "Spend what you need," I'd told her, expecting reasonable choices.

I felt the bone-deep exhaustion from days of battle and sleepless nights. The Southern Campaign had been brutal, but at least there the enemies were clear and the solutions straightforward. Here at court, every victory seemed to spawn new complications.

Lucius cleared his throat softly. "My lord, you haven't truly rested since returning from battle. Perhaps a few hours' sleep would-"

"No." The word came out sharp and final.

"But my lord-"

"No more sleep."

He bowed slightly and withdrew, knowing better than to push further. The door closed quietly behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

Through the window, mother's courtyard blazed with light, as if determined to outshine the stars themselves.