Keys to the Kingdom (8 page)

"And for what? SMACK! Because you're bored? SMACK! Because you think it's funny to hurt people? Because you can find no other way to amuse yourself? Do you know how shameful it is for a smart, pretty girl to waste herself in that manner?"

Fiona was crying in earnest now, not just because of the rapidly building burn in her bottom, but because his words hurt almost as much.

It had never occurred to her to examine the implications of her behavior. For Fiona, spreading gossip and rumors had always just been fun, a way of making sport of the servants when she had nothing better to do. Now, as she lay across Justin's lap she thought back to the time she caused the cook to fall into tears when she started a rumor that the stable boy the girl was planning to marry was in love with someone else. And the time she blamed Lark for stealing Luna's ribbons, which led Luna to steal all of Lark's in return and tie them to the ponies' manes. And then there was the time she told a messenger that her father needed him to meet a courier at the crossroads near the village at the base of the mountains. The man nearly died when trapped in a snowstorm.

"Stand up." She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

"Is this really the kind of person you want to be, Fiona?" he asked. "Because I can tell you I will not tolerate that in a wife. And you will be my wife, young lady."

It felt odd to be spoken to in such a manner by one so young, for Justin was at the most a year or two older than she was. But there was something comforting in his dictation to her. Fiona knew her actions were unkind, but wasn't sure she could stop herself from continuing.

She sniffled pathetically and wiped her eyes as she faced him.

"What if I don't want to marry you?" she asked petulantly.

"You will," he said and pulled her to him. Justin kissed her firmly but gently, for he knew this was her first kiss and he did not want to scare her. The princess struggled at first but then relaxed in his arms, hands going to his face and then his hair. Her arms wound around his neck and he pulled her closer until their bodies were fused chest-to-chest.

Fiona moaned as his mouth blazed a trail down her neck until his face as buried in her fragrant cleavage, his hot breath steamy on the firm, pale mounds that were her breasts.

"Stop," she said, her voice uneasy and he complied, reaching out to wipe away the traces of tears that still clung to her face.

"You are beautiful. You are a treasure. And as long as you live I will treat you as such."

She stared at him, her eyes filled with want. "I'm not supposed to desire marriage with you," she said miserably. "My sisters will be angry."

"Do you always do what your sisters want?" he asked. "Is that the rule, then, that one must not love unless all do? It seems a rather sad rule. For if one refuses love then she condemns the rest of her siblings to spinsterhood."

"No," she said. "It isn't like that. It's just that one of us could not be happy if another is sad. We may fight at times, but we are family."

"As my brothers and I are. And you know how it feels when you are at odds with family. There is nothing worse, which is why I will not abide your fostering discord."

Fiona nodded. "There is one more thing," she said. "I will not be pushed aside while you rule. I am not simply a piece of window dressing."

He smiled, thinking she was very much like her older sister, although he could not tell her so. Not now at least.

He reached for her. "A king or a prince would be foolish indeed to deny himself wise counsel. Even if my brothers and I are allowed to rule, we can never know this kingdom the way you and your sisters do. You grew up here, after all. And I believe you all will be the most valuable resource at our disposal. You are certainly the most beautiful."

She looked down and smiled, blushing.

"Are you seeking to charm you way into my good graces."

"Charm, romance, insist. I foresee a mixture of all, Princess Fiona. It will be a pleasure winning your hand. And do not think I believe I am already there. You are a woman who will take no less than an ardent suitor willing to prove himself. And I am eager to accept that challenge."

"So you like challenges, do you?" she asked.

"So long as the challenger knows when to stop pushing. I will be master of my house," he said. "Defy me, fair Fiona and you will spend much of your time standing because you're bottom is too sore to sit upon."

She frowned, but inside a part of her thrilled at the words. For what use is a weak prince to a strong princess.

"And now," he said. "I would like it very much if you would show me the castle grounds."

She curtseyed and took his hand. And that his how Prince Justin began his official courtship of Princess Fiona.

Chapter Six

Angelica and Quentin

Angelica lay on the bed of her room, a cool cloth pressed to her head. She moaned softly and Prince Quentin, who'd been warned of her dishonesty, began to wonder if he was making a mistake by ignoring her. He'd been warned about her penchant for dishonesty by her father and was sure this was just a ploy to trick into leaving the room.

Or was it. She was saying nothing now, only moaning more weakly. Quentin paced the outer room, looking through the door of her small bedchamber ever so often until finally he decided that if he must err, it was better to err on the side of caution.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"It's my heart," she said.

He looked at her and scoffed. "Your heart? Come now. Is it so terrible to be locked up away from your sisters. Surely your heart can take a bit of separation from.."

"No." She interrupted him with a weak wave of her hand. "It is not the state of my heart, but a physical condition. My father should have told you, Quentin. I'm sure, however, he was afraid you would reject me if you knew."

"Knew what?"

"My heart is bad," she said. "Sometimes it beats most erratically and I feel weak. Usually the nurse makes the concoction to steady it. But she has gone to see her own ailing mother."

Quentin looked around helplessly. He still wasn't sure if he should believe the little minx. But she looked so weak; if she were telling the truth and something happened.

"Here," he said. "Let me lay my hand upon your heart."

But she crossed her arms across, her eyes indignant. "You would lay your hand on my bosom when we are not yet married? You dishonor me sir!"

"Princess, I merely sought to confirm..."

"Doubt me if you must," she said. "But if you doubt me to my death my father will not offer you a kingdom, but instead offer you up as food for the hounds."

"I did not meant to offend," he said.

"I'm not offended," she said. "But I am afraid."

"I could fetch one of your sisters," he said. "But we're under orders not to disturb the others. Should I send for a physician?"

"No," she said. "It will take too long. The nurse always treats me immediately." She looked at him hopefully. "You could do it, however. I can tell you which herbs to use to make the drink..."

"I'm no good at such things," he said, worried.

"Very well then," she said and made to stand. "I'll do it myself."

She fell immediately and Quentin, more alarmed than ever, caught her.

"Forgive my clumsiness," she said. "Perhaps I can steady myself enough to get out to the garden. The herbs I need are right outside."

"No," he said. "I'll do it."

He eased her gently back down onto the bed.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I would do it myself if I could. But it's easy enough. The herb smells of lemon and has yellow flowers. You only need a little to extract its curative properties. Simply soak it in a bit of wine until the wine itself tastes strongly of lemon. And then bring it to me. A cup of it and I will be back to myself in no time."

He nodded and made to move away but she took his hand.

"You have no idea how pleased I am that you are doing this."

"It is my pleasure, Princess," he said. "I would show you to what lengths I am prepared to go to protect you."

He turned then and went out of the room. When she was sure he was gone Angelica rose from her bed and watched from the window as he wandered the herb patch under the window.

She smiled as Quentin kneeled down and plucked a plant dotted with small yellow flowers. Then she giggled as, after smelling the sprig, he began slicing off more with his knife. When he stood up she went and hopped back in bed, pressing the cool wet cloth down on her face. By the time Quentin came back in, her skin was damp and clammy.

Her eyes, closed when he rushed in the door, fluttered open weakly.

"Is it ready?"

"Not yet. But it will be," he promised.

"Only give the wine to me when it tastes strongly of lemon."

He rubbed her forehead and smiled before going over to the table. Angelica watched with half-closed eyes as he put the herbs in the cup and covered them with wine. Ever so often he would taste the concoction.

Quentin had only been stirring and tasting the cup for just a few moments when he felt the first itch. It was on his face by his mouth and he rubbed the spot before returning to his mixing duties. Two sips later his forehead was also itching. Then his chin, then his neck. The discomfort spread quickly and when he turned with the cup Angelica suppressed a giggle at the sight of his face.

It was covered in red, splotchy welts. And by the looks of him, the irritation wasn't confined to his face.

"Here," he said, walking towards her. But no sooner had he taken a step than he dropped the cup and then went down on his knees, succumbing to a sudden rush of violent itching.

"Aaaarrrgh!" he cried. "What's happening to me!"

"Indeed I do not know!" she sat up quickly in her bed. "I am just so grateful that noxious mixture did not pass my lips!"

Angelica stood and walked around him, her arms crossed. Quentin was scraching furiously now, putting the edge of his shirt up as he did to rake the welting skin underneath.

"I can only imagine what you must be going through!" she said.

"It's torment! Aaaargh!" he cried. "You are fortunate that I..."

He stopped suddenly, so surprised that for the briefest second he forgot the horrible itching.

"What are you doing out of bed? I thought you were too weak?"

She smirked. "Well, you know what they say. Laughter is the best medicine."

Quentin rose, a snarl on his face. He advanced on her even as he continued to scratch himself.

"Why you little. Wait till I get my hands...."

She jumped back and he stumbled over a footstool.

"My lord," she said. "It would appear you do not have enough hands as it is."

But rage breathed life into Quentin and he jumped up. And Angelica realized at that moment that her attempt to get under his skin had, perhaps been too successful. The Prince was angry and her mouth went dry with fear as she recalled his earlier spanking. He was far angrier now. If he got ahold of her.

She turned and ran. And Quentin, while in pursuit, could not catch her as he had to stop ever few seconds to scratch.

"Help! Help!" Angelica burst from the doorway and ran to the safest place she could think of - Lenora's suite. Lenora would know what to do. Lenora always knew what to do.

She burst through the door as soon as Lenora opened it and slammed it just as rapidly, fixing the lock and pushing her back up against it.

"Help me!" she cried. "He's gone mad!"

"Who's gone mad?" Prince Kier entered the room, his expression suspicious.

"Your brother!" she cried. "He...he..." She looked around, struggling for a new lie.

"He became angry when I refused to serve him and threatened to beat me! He went wild, throwing things, yelling insults!!"

Kier knew his brother Quentin and knew what Angelica described could not be true.

He walked over and, taking her shoulder, pushed her out of the way just as the first banging on the door came from outside.

"Don't!" she cried as he pushed her to Lenora, but Kier ignored her.

Both the eldest son of Salazar and the eldest daughter of Randor gasped as they laid eyes upon Prince Quentin.

His face was puffy from the welts now and his hands were everywhere as he frantically dug at his clothes to relieve the unbearable itching.

"What on earth happened?" Kier asked.

"She...she..." He could not even speak as he continued to scratch while pointing at Angelica with the other hand.

Lenora sighed. "Angelica, how could you?"

The third-born daughter of Randor looked at the ground, suppressing a giggle.

"Sit down, Quentin," Lenora instructed. "I'll fix you and antidote."

"There's an antidote?"

"Of course," Lenora said. "I recognize itch-flower lesions anywhere. It was Luna who discovered it and we all suffered its effects one time or another. I had thought if this happened to anyone it would be poor Ivan. But I shouldn't I have put it past Angelica. Liars also make good pranksters."

She glanced at Kier. "Would you please take Angelica out for a bit?"

Kier looked down at the girl, scowling. "Gladly." He took her arm. "Come, Angelica."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they were back in the hallway.