“Why not?” Phillip said.
“Because it’s madness,” Jeffrey pointed out. “And could be nothing but a wild goose chase.”
Charles, who was silent for most of the conversation, finally said, “Why would the old woman want you two at the dragon’s cave, though?”
Silence descended on their small camp. Rosamund glanced from Charles to Phillip who pressed his lips together as he considered the question.
“Why, indeed, is a good question, brother,” Jeffrey said. He looked to Phillip. “What is this old woman’s interest in the two of you?”
Phillip shrugged. “I haven’t any idea.”
“Unless she’s an evil faery,” Rosamund put in.
All of them turned to her. Phillip’s eyes widened a bit. She would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking at him. Jeffrey’s brows rose in question.
“An evil faery? Phillip, have you been telling tales again?” Jeffrey didn’t bother to hide the smirk on his face as he reached for another oatcake.
“Take it easy on those,” Charles snapped. “We have to ration.”
Jeffrey frowned at his brother as he began gathering the food and wrapping it up once again.
Before Phillip could answer, Rosamund said, “He told me of an evil faery who placed a curse on a baby girl. That she would prick her finger on a thorn and fall into a forever sleep.”
Again, they all stared at her as if she were something of an enigma. Jeffrey swallowed the oatcake he’d been eating. Phillip paced the small camp. Charles busied himself with putting the food away into the saddle bags.
“What?” she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“You told her that story, did you?” Jeffrey said, looking at Phillip.
Phillip remained devoid of expression as he continued to pace the confines of the camp. “She doesn’t know everything.”
Confusion flickered through her followed by irritation. “What does that mean?”
“I think you should tell her the truth.” Jeffrey brushed crumbs from his hands and gave his friend a pointed look.
“She didn’t even know we were betrothed until recently,” Phillip said.
“That does pose a problem,” Jeffrey replied.
“Would you please stop talking about me as if I weren’t here,” Rosamund snapped, her ire rising.
Phillip halted, his apprehensive gaze landing on her. Something about that look sent alarm jingling through her, setting her nerves on a raw edge. Her gut clenched, twisted into a tight knot.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Tell her, Phillip. She deserves to know.”
After a moment of indecision, Phillip at last nodded. Then he moved to sit next to her, turning to her.
“When I was six years old, my parents and I traveled to Myst Hall to witness the christening of the young princess. You,” he said. “You and I were betrothed in an agreement between our fathers to broker a strong alliance because your father, King Stephan, feared Faery, the neighboring kingdom, intended to invade and increase their borders.”
Hot pinpricks of fear skittered through her. She didn’t like where this was going.
“Your father invited the Fae royals from Faery to the christening as a show of good faith. It was in the hopes they would not invade Stonebridge and leave us be. The royals from four of the Faery Courts arrived in grand fashion. They bestowed upon you faery gifts.”
Her brows drew together. “What sort of gifts?”
“Gifts of Fae magic,” he said. “One gave you the gift of beauty, charm, and grace. Another strength and bravery. However, your father forgot to invite one of the royals. The queen of the Eternal Court, Queen Rowena,” he continued.
