A chance meeting between a prince and a peasant results in consequences that will not only change their lives, but also the kingdom.

Cover by Zillah Designs.


15. Chapter Fifteen: Samera


      Menul and my father were quiet at dinner. I picked at my food, my thoughts on the Prince’s kindness and Kale. There was the scraping of chairs on the floor and I watched as they stood up. I expected them to leave without a word as they usually did, but instead my father walked around to where I was sat.

      “Lock the door.” he told me, pressing his lips to my head.

      The rare display of affection surprised me. Nodding I did as my father had said and locked the door after he and Menul had left. I washed the dishes anxiously. Why was my father suddenly so concerned with my safety? Not wanting to be alone in the house I went next door. Torrance was out but Myra and Omer were sat by the fire.

      “Do you mind if I join you?” I asked.

      Myra smiled at me. “Not at all, Samera, come sit with us.”

      Thanking her I retrieved a chair from the table and sat in between them. It appeared that whatever the others were up to Omer wasn’t involved in it, which was a relief. Omer was leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him. His brown eyes were filled with love as he stroked my cheek before lacing his fingers through mine and closing his tired eyes. Myra was knitting so I held the ball of wool for her.

      Once Omer was snoring softly, I said. “I’m worried, Myra. My father and Menul are involved with Kale.”

      The needles in Myra’s hands stilled. “Kale, are you sure?”

      I told her about the night before.

      Muttering a silent prayer to the Goddess, Myra regarded me with frightened eyes. “And Torrance is involved too? Goddess help them.”

      “I think it’s because some of the miners are losing their jobs. I dread to think what they’re planning to do.” I whispered. Omer’s hand was warm in mine but I felt cold.

      “I’ve started your wedding dress.” Myra said after a while.

      I gazed at her in surprise. It was the mother of the bride’s duty to make the wedding dress, but seeing as my mother was dead I had assumed that I would have to make my own dress. “Myra,” I murmured, overwhelmed by her kindness. “I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.” tears spilled down my cheeks.

      Myra’s own cheeks were wet as she drew me into her arms. “You’re welcome, Sami. You’re like a daughter to me. I want to do this for you.”

      Omer had woken up when my hand had been pulled from his and he watched us through bleary eyes. “What’s going on?” he yawned.

      “We’re discussing the wedding dress.” Myra told her son.

      Omer gave a chuckle. “You women, all you ever think about is the dress” but I could tell that he was pleased. Standing up he stretched.

      “Do you want to stay here tonight, Samera?” Myra asked returning to her knitting. “I’m sure Omer won’t mind giving up his bed.”

      At the thought of me sleeping over, Omer’s eyes brightened. “I can sleep on the floor.”

      I hesitated. Would my father and Menul be gone all night? My father had told me to lock the door after all and I didn’t know if he had a key. I didn’t very much like the idea of being all alone in the house for the night. “Are you sure that would be alright?”

      “Of course,” Myra smiled. “You can wear one of my nightdresses.”

      Omer led me upstairs, a slight spring in his step. I changed in Myra and Torrance’s bedroom. It was plain but had a homey feel. Rubbing my arms against the cold I padded into Omer’s room. He was no where to be seen so I placed my clothes and shoes in a pile on the floor and climbed into his bed. It was strange to think that in a few months I would be sleeping here permanently.

      Omer appeared after a while and closed the bedroom door. “I could get used to seeing you in my bed.” he grinned. He was dressed in a loose shirt and thick pyjama bottoms.

      I blushed despite myself but didn’t say anything. Omer turned out the lantern casting the room into darkness. The bedcovers were lifted up as he got inside.

      “That’s not the floor.” I said warily, unsure if Omer was going to try anything.

      He wrapped an arm around me and held me close. “No, but as you probably know, I’m not much of a nobleman.” Omer’s lips found mine in the black. Resting his cheek on my head he sighed in contentment.

      I exhaled in relief and closed my eyes. Omer’s presence was reassuring and I soon fell asleep.


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...