Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (24 page)

They rode
on. After Laberdeen it became easier to gain access to the towns. Among the
hundreds following her, one or two would have relatives living in each
township. They would ride ahead of the host and gain her entrance. Then Bianca
could speak with the town, and let them decide. While getting them to listen
grew easier, convincing the people was frequently harder.

“Yer a
spineless wretch, Philip Dunmorrey!” the baker’s wife screeched across the
meeting hall. “Ye ask my boys ta hide yer grain in our mill, so ye dinna get
taxed fer it, but ye willna stand up ta the king when given a chance!”

“You’re a
foolish old cow, Mrs. Claunech, and no mistake.” Philip Dunmorrey owned the
largest farm in the region. “When fall comes, and there is no food for your
table, and the long winter stretches before you with no stores put by, then
will you still howl for me to take up arms? Or will you wish I had stayed home
and tended my fields, instead?”

“We’ll
starve either way! There’s ta be a war, and the only question is will yer crops
go inta the bellies of Brannon’s soldiers? Or will yer legs march in support of
her majesty?”

The fights
were exhausting, though many people were eventually swayed to join her. Even
Philip Dunmorrey, as reluctant as he was, decided for her in the end. Bianca,
in one of her first acts of true governance, called him together with the other
larger farmers. Then she sent them all home.

“But why,
your majesty?”

“Mr.
Dunmorrey has opened my eyes. My people will still need to eat, come the fall.
Go home and tend your fields. Let the other folk who stayed behind work in your
field, or help them tend their own. When winter comes, I do not wish the
kingdom to starve.”

The farmers
went forth happily to gather up their things and to spread the word that their
new queen was more sensible than they had expected. Bianca was more sober as
she returned to her tent. It would be a lean winter with only the largest farms
running, even if this ended quickly. If it dragged on then the people of Toldas
would be hungry indeed. Perhaps she could write to other kingdoms, requesting
food shipments. Brannon had enough stockpiled in his treasury, they should be
able to pay for food if there was any to spare.

Everywhere
they went a few people stayed home, because they were sick, or had children too
young to march, or because someone had to watch the livestock. The closer they
came to the capital, the louder the voices of objection. It was in Weemet that
the first man spoke against Bianca, in favor of the king. He was the local
governor, and had done well for himself collecting Brannon’s harsh taxes and
skimming from the top. The farmers wanted to string him up, but Bianca stopped
them.

“If I kill
him for speaking against me, how am I different from my father?”

“But, yer
majesty, if ye leave him be, he’ll run straight to Brannon.”

“Then let
him.” Bianca looked out at the horde that was following her. They were not an
army, but they were daunting nonetheless. “Brannon must know we are coming. One
more voice will make no difference.”

***

Brannon did
know they were coming. He must have, because he sent a troop from his army to
meet them on the King’s Road.

Bianca’s
supporters were not so much traveling the countryside as they were moving
across it like an inexorable flood. The villages they encountered opened their
stores to feed them and added to their swelling numbers. Weeks ago Robin had
started organizing rotating hunts to bring a steady supply of fresh meat to the
people, in addition to the supplies sent from Albion. They occasionally passed
through the king’s private hunting preserves, and Bianca had to admit, she had
had a great deal of pleasure granting hunting rights to the people. Her father
was probably foaming at the mouth, hearing about it.

Her scouts
informed her that a contingent of Brannon’s army was formed up on the road.
Bianca’s wagon, as well as the other wagons, were traveling there, but the folk
following her on foot swept out on either side of the road, stretching out like
wings that might envelop the force of men standing before them. She didn’t want
bloodshed, though, so once they came in sight of the carefully arranged
formations, she signaled Robin to stop the wagon, stopping all those behind
her. The wings continued forward, but eventually even they realized the main
advance had halted and trickled to a stop themselves, eager to see how their
new monarch handled the opposing forces.

She had
always known this moment would come. Brannon’s war machines were now so much
scrap, lying useless and dormant without the timber or metals to complete them
or the coal to run them, thanks to the efforts of Baines and his men. Brannon’s
soldiers were his only line of defense. She knew inevitably she would face
armed men, and she had long ago determined her course of action. The people of
Toldas had risen, and she did not think even the army would put them back down.
But she might save many of their lives if she could resolve this peacefully,
which is why she pulled herself into her horse’s saddle and rode toward the
army alone, waving a white flag of parley.

Alone, that
is, save for Robin, who cursed and flung himself from the wagon seat into his
own saddle, and came after her.

“You might
have warned me you were planning on doing this.”

“You might
have tried to stop me.”

“Of course I
would. Because this is insane.”

“Remember
when you walked into the cloud of bees, to get honey for Isabelle?”

“Those are
not bees.”

“No.” Bianca
smiled at him. “But I speak their language.”

As she rode
nearer, she took stock of the armed men before her. It was a pitifully small
force, when compared to her own vast numbers. True, they were better armed and
equipped, but if it came down to a fight they would simply be washed away.
Bianca felt pity for them, and a certain admiration for their courage, standing
there as they had been ordered to do, despite the fear they must be feeling.

She reined
up before the front line and turned her head from side to side so she could
survey the ranks. The soldiers were silent, and Bianca waited. Finally, one young
man, a lieutenant by the bars on his collar, spoke up.

“Lady Nieve,
we have orders that you stand down, and disperse this unlawful rebellion.”

Bianca
smiled at the soldier. “My name is not Nieve, sir. I am Bianca, and I am the
queen of these good people. They are here through my invitation, and I will not
chastise them, nor send them away.”

The
lieutenant struggled to form a reply, and Bianca let him flounder for a moment
before she stepped in.

“What is
your name, lieutenant?”

“Timothy, my
lady.”

“Timothy,
why have they sent you out here to treat with me? Where are your superior
officers?” Bianca was not mocking. She felt very real sympathy for the boy, so
completely out of his depth, and she let that sympathy bleed into her voice.

“I… I don’t
know, my lady.”

But he did
know; she could see it in his eyes. She swung down off her horse, causing Robin
to snort in exasperation, but she ignored him. Instead she went to stand before
Timothy. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in the young, inexperienced faces
around him.

“Your orders
were to slow me down at any cost, weren’t they?” He nodded, stiffly, and Bianca
felt like crying. Her father had sent a company of mere boys to block her way,
thinking she would slaughter them with her hordes, but knowing it would cost
her time, and lives.

“How
horrible.” She whispered it, then set her jaw and turned to mount her horse.
She stood in her stirrups, and pitched her voice as far as she could, trusting
the message runners to take her words through the force.

“Good soldiers
of Toldas. My father has sent you here to fight and bleed for him, against your
own countrymen. These folk behind me do not follow me out of fear, or because I
have offered force. They follow me because I have offered them a choice. To
choose to live under a queen who treats them as though their lives have value.
As though they, themselves, have value. I offer you the same choice. Brannon
would spend your lives, and the lives of your countrymen who ride with me, to
keep himself on the throne another scant day. I will not. I cannot. Your lives
are not mine to spend, only your own. If you choose to follow me, I will share
your battles, your victories, and your hardships. If not,” she turned her
horse, “depart in peace. I will not spill your blood to gain a throne.”

She could
hear murmurs from the men arrayed behind her, but she kept her mount to a slow
pace. The murmurs grew, and then a voice spoke out clearly.

“We were
sent to arrest her!”

“Quiet,
Bryan.” She recognized Timothy’s voice. “We need to think about this.”

“No, sir. We
don’t, sir. We have our orders, and we have to follow them!”

Bianca
turned in her saddle and saw the two young men, facing off in front of the
other soldiers.

“What if she’s
right, Bry?” Timothy was pleading with his friend, but Bryan shook his head.

“I am not
letting you get yourself court-martialed, just because you overthink things. We
were sent here to arrest her, and if you won’t do it, then I will.”

Bryan
started to pull his saber from his sheath, and pandemonium erupted. Timothy
moved to stop him, but another soldier, apparently in agreement with Bryan,
pulled him back by the shoulder and punched him in the jaw, knocking the
lieutenant down in the dirt. Three other young men in uniforms grabbed Bryan
from behind, keeping his arms locked down and away from his saber. Bianca
pulled on her reins, trying to go back, to say or do something to calm the
fray, but Robin pulled her from the saddle and kicked his mount, carrying them
both back to the safety of their own people.

“Robin,
stop!”

He ignored
her, and Bianca watched over his shoulder from a distance as the brawl spread
amongst the ranks of the company. Some of Bianca’s supporters rushed in,
pulling the young men away from each other, but the center of the fight was
hard to reach, and the clash went on for some time.

By the time
it was over, three boys were dead. Their deaths were accidents, brought about
by blows struck in the heat of the moment without regard for the damage they
would do, but that wouldn’t bring any of the young men back to life. Bryan, his
uniform ripped and torn from the scuffle, knelt at Timothy’s side, sobbing his
name. The young lieutenant had been one of the casualties.

Bianca
pulled free of Robin’s arms and approached Bryan cautiously. He lifted his
tear-stained face, and Bianca was struck to the heart by how young he was. She
had no words of comfort to offer, so instead she crouched down and held out her
arms, letting him lean his head against her shoulder, gathering him in close.

She knelt in
the dust of the road and cried along with him, mourning the loss of his friend.
When his sobs finally eased she got to her feet, drawing him up alongside her.

“What will
you do to me?” His voice was broken and uncaring.

“That
depends. Would you like to go home to your family?”

“You’d let
me go?” Surprise made him lift his head.

She nodded.

“After what
I’ve done?”

“You did
what you thought was right.” She was full of compassion. “Sometimes that has
unexpected consequences.”

His voice
caught again. “Doesn’t seem fair that Timothy had to pay them.”

“No. It’s
not.”

There wasn’t
much else to say.

He scrubbed
at his face, and sighed heavily. “What if I don’t want to go home? What if
Timothy was right? What if I want to go with you?”

An hour
later the wagons rolled down the king’s road, leaving behind three freshly dug
graves. In the center of the host marched Bianca’s new company, some with tears
on their faces, but all with a fierce new determination in their hearts.

Robin had
procured her a larger tent from somewhere. She didn’t know if he’d commandeered
it or paid for it outright, but despite her initial protests, she had to admit
she was glad to have it. It was nice to have a place she could meet with her
advisors without feeling like they were sitting in each other’s laps. That
particular afternoon, Felix was waiting when she finally took refuge from the
slight rain that had plagued them all day. He had a pot of tea steeping on the
little brazier she kept, and a small stack of papers balanced on his knees. He
absentmindedly handed her a tin cup while flipping through the neatly-written
requests.

“I’ve been
looking these over, like you asked. Many of them are variations on the same
theme. They’d like a way to speak for themselves that doesn’t require the
indulgence of whoever sits on the throne. And they’d like a way to hold the
nobility responsible when they abuse their power.”

“That seems
reasonable.” She sat on a stool and gratefully sipped her tea. “Don’t you
think?”

“I do…”

She heard
the reserve in his voice. “But?”

“It’s a
massive job. If you’re serious about refining the legal code..?”

“I am.”

“It will
take a lifetime of dedicated work. You won’t have time for anything else.”

“I agree.
Which brings me to my next question.” She paused, and sighed. “Felix, you know
that part of my duty will be ensuring heirs to the throne.” He nodded
cautiously. “Do you really feel like you could help me with that?”

He looked at
her askance. “I think so? I mean, I would try. It isn’t that you’re not lovely,
Bianca, it’s just—”

He fumbled
around, and she waved him off, smiling. “I’m not offended, Felix, but if you
want to be the king I think we need to make sure you can father children,
first.”

“How do you
propose we go about doing that?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

Bianca stood
up. “I think you should try kissing me, and see how you feel.”

Felix
sighed, but he, too, stood up. Keeping their bodies far apart, he leaned
forward and mashed their mouths together. Bianca felt vaguely like she’d
tripped and fallen on his lips. It wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t even comfortable.
What it was was supremely awkward, and when Felix pulled back she had to fight
the urge to wipe her mouth.

He had no
such compunction. He scrubbed vigorously with the back of his hand, before
slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“I guess
that answers that question.”

She smiled
at him. “It’s true, I don’t think we should be married. But I would still very
much like your help ruling Toldas.”

“Really?” He
poured himself a cup of the bitter tea. “Tell me more.”

“You have a
fine mind, Felix, and we work well together. If your family cannot find a
useful way for you to spend your time, then they are fools.” She gave him a
pleading look. “Stay here with me. I need you. I will need a Justice, someone
to dedicate themselves to the laws of this land. It will be a lifelong work,
but not, I think, one that would bore you.”

He looked at
her, dumbfounded, and then down at the papers where he had been making notes. A
slow grin spread across his face. “You know, I think I’m just mad enough to
accept that offer.”

“Wonderful!”
Bianca threw her arms around him for an enthusiastic hug. He returned it, and
then pulled back sharply.

“As your
newly anointed Justice, may I give you some advice?” She nodded. “You should
bathe.” He took a lock of her hair between his fingers, and examined it with a
critical eye. “And brush this mop. The people want you to look the part, and
you’re beginning to resemble an unwashed miscreant, fine gowns and all.”

Bianca gave
a rueful shrug. “I can’t do a thing with my hair. When I was a little girl I
used to make Fain braid it for me.”

“I believe
Lord MacTíre is currently sequestered in a tent with Princess Vivienne, and
doesn’t wish to be disturbed. Shall I see if there’s anyone else about who
claims the ability to braid?”

“Please.”
She smiled.

Felix strode
from the tent, nodding at Robin as he went. Robin ducked into her tent, and
cocked his head at her. “So he said yes. Are you pleased?”

“Immensely.”
Bianca hummed to herself as she poured some water into a kettle and set it over
the brazier. “Felix will do marvelously well, and perhaps he can patch things
up with Leander.” She pulled a fresh gown from her trunk, along with some
stockings and a chemise, and threw them on her cot.

Robin came
up behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. He didn’t restrain
her at all, but she stopped moving beneath his touch. “Of course, Anders will
be pleased.”

“Yes.” She
sighed, and all her joy at Felix’ agreement fled.

“You do not
have to marry him, Bianca.”

“If not him,
then who? I must marry someone, and Anders is not objectionable. I could grow
to care for him, in time.”

“I would
have more for you, Bianca, than that your husband be not objectionable.”

“It doesn’t
matter.” She shook his hands off her shoulders, and turned to face him. “I have
to have heirs from someone, and I have given my word. If I refuse him now, what
will happen the next time Toldas needs a favor? When I offer promises in
exchange for grain to last the winter? When I make treaties, or sign accords? I
must be trustworthy, and honorable.” She looked up into his eyes, and for the
barest moment she cupped his face in her hands. “No man will be more to me than
not objectionable. I cannot do what is right for me. So I will do what is right
for Toldas.”

She saw the
sorrow in his eyes, and let him step away from her.

“I’ll send a
message to his tent that you’d like to see him after dinner.”

She nodded,
and watched him slip out the tent flap, longing to call him back, but knowing
she could not.

Instead she
doffed her gown and took up a bathing cloth. She washed herself as best she
could in the warm water from the kettle, and then poured the rest over her
head, rinsing her hair. She didn’t think while she did it, just let her body go
through the motions of cleaning and dressing herself. If she let her mind
think, she would start sobbing and be unable to stop. Better to wrap herself in
a fog, and hope to stay there.

Felix
scratched at the tent, but didn’t enter. “Your majesty? I’ve found a woman who
claims to be able to braid.”

“Send her
in.”

A waft of
fresh air flowed into the tent when the woman entered. She was dressed like one
of the many common women who were with the army now.

“Where did
Prince Felix find you, goodwoman?”

“By the
riverside, your majesty. We gather there to wash our clothing. My daughter had
lovely long hair, and I learned the trick of handling it ages ago.”

Bianca
seated herself on the stool and handed her comb to the woman. “Where is your
daughter now?”

“Gone,” came
the voice, as the comb began pulling through the wet locks. “Taken. That is why
I am here.”

At the words
Bianca tensed in alarm, but it was too late. She felt the tines of the comb
bite into her scalp, and a sharp pain spread out along her head. She let out a
gasp, but the woman quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“Hush now,
little queen,” the voice whispered behind her. “The pain will pass quick
enough. Then you shall be no more, and I shall have my daughter back.”

Bianca felt
a burning spread along her skin, but she raised her hands and dug her nails
hard into the woman’s arm, causing her to curse and jerk away. Bianca didn’t
waste her chance.

“Robin!”

He burst
through the tent flap and took in the scene with a glance. Then he pulled the
woman off of Bianca. She shrieked and tried to lunge forward once more, but he
held her fast.

Without the
support of the other woman’s hands, Bianca felt woozy, and almost fell over.
Robin gave her an agonized look, but Bianca could see he had no hand free to
help her, not without releasing the struggling washerwoman.

“Get…
help…”

Robin nodded
once, then hoisted the woman over his shoulder and ran from the tent, calling
for help. Bianca’s gaze centered on her comb, which lay on the carpet, its
tines glistening with whatever compound the woman had rubbed on.

Her eyes
lost their focus, and Bianca gave up the struggle to stay upright. She let
herself collapse on the floor, holding onto consciousness through sheer force
of will, hearing Robin thundering through the camp.

“Connelly!!”

***

For once,
Robin was grateful to Bianca’s suitors. He found Felix outside the tent, and
told him to guard Bianca; then he almost ran into Anders and took the
opportunity to thrust the washerwoman into his arms, charging him to watch her.
Then he headed in the direction he’d last seen one of Baines’ men, praying he
could find Connelly in time.

Fortune was
with him; he stumbled across Sean Kelly completely by chance. Kelly corrected
his course and pointed Robin towards Baines’ camp. Connelly was sitting beside
the fire, darning a rent in his socks, and after one look at Robin’s face he
grabbed his satchel and sprang to his feet, leaving his socks on the ground.
They flew back through the camp, Connelly pounding along barefoot, Robin
screaming for people to clear the way.

They burst
into the tent and saw that Felix had gotten Bianca to her cot. He was holding
her hand and whispering to her, but he looked up at their arrival. His
charming, boyish face was stained with tears.

“Her pulse
is so slow.”

“Let me see,
laddie.” Connelly shooed the prince aside and sat down. Robin caught the comb
up from where it still lay, on the floor of the tent, and handed it to
Connelly. The little man sniffed at the tines, and he nodded in recognition. “Aye,
‘tis a vile poison. Give me m’bag, and I’ll try ta set our little queen ta
rights.”

Connelly
grabbed a lump of charcoal from the fire, and ground it fine, mixing it with a
dab of honey from his bag. Then he searched through Bianca’s mass of wet hair
until he found the puncture wounds made by the comb. He dabbed some of the
coal-laden honey on each spot; then, to Felix’s horror, he opened her mouth and
smeared the rest on her tongue. She tossed her head, even in her semi-conscious
state, but she began swallowing.

“There.
Charcoal ta leech the poison, and this,” he held up a vial from his bag, “ta
clean her blood.” He put a few drops between Bianca’s lips, then stoppered the
vial. “Nothin’ ta do now but wait.”

Robin
hovered over Bianca, with Felix at his side. Neither of them spoke; they merely
watched with worried eyes. After what seemed like an age, but was really only a
few moments, Connelly leaned forward and lifted one of Bianca’s lids, peering
at her pupil.

“Looks like
tha lass’ll be jest fine.”

Robin took a
deep breath, and his chest ached at the sudden influx of air. Beside him, Felix
let out a quavering sigh. Connelly smiled at them both and handed the vial of
liquid to Robin. “Give it ta her, jest a bit at a time, over the next day. ‘Twill
clear the rest o’ the poison.”

“What is it?”

“Milk
thistle, boy, nothin’ more.” Connelly paused in his packing, and cast a look
over at Felix. Then he cleared his throat gruffly. “Yer highness, kin I trouble
ye ta tell the Princess Vivienne she’s needed here?”

“Of course.”
Felix dashed the few remaining tears from his eyes and made to go. “You’re sure
she’s going to be all right?”

“Sure an’
more sure, laddie.”

“Good then.”
Felix gave Connelly’s hand a hearty shake, and went from the tent. Once he was
gone, Robin looked at the old medic.

“Well?”

“She’ll be
fine lad, I dinna lie. But listen ye well: the plant that gives off this toxic
nectar?” He waved the comb at Robin. “‘Tis a bloom that grows only in the
mists.”

They stared
at one another, until Vivienne came sweeping in. She caught sight of Bianca,
lying pale and still on the cot, and burst into tears.

“How is
Brannon accomplishing this?” she wailed.

Fain followed
close on her heels, and he rushed to his foster-sister’s side. Crouching down,
he checked her forehead and then folded his hands tenderly over her limp
fingers. “I wish I’d killed him when I had the chance.”

Robin and
Connelly exchanged a glance, but it was Robin who spoke up.

“It may not
be the king.”

“What?” Vivi’s
violet eyes were riveted on Robin. “Why would anyone else want to kill Bianca?”

“I do not
know, your highness, truly. But there are signs…” He trailed off, looking at
Fain. The man had yet to actually marry into the royal house of Albion, and
therefore was not, technically, privy to certain secrets.

“It’s the
Fae.” Vivienne’s voice came out hard. Robin’s eyes snapped to her, but she didn’t
let him speak. “Don’t even think of it. I told Fain after our betrothal became
official. And anyway, I’ve read the Dame’s copy of the Accords. I’m mortal, and
most certainly not bound by any of it. I shall tell whomever I please.” She
glared at him. He bowed his head in acquiescence, and told the others what they
knew.