The Captive Maiden (15 page)

Margaretha turned back to Gisela and took her arm. “I can hardly wait to see you and Valten dancing together tomorrow night. It will be —”

“Gisela!”

Her heart froze as an icy chill raced across her shoulders.

“Gisela!” Her stepmother’s unmistakable voice.

Margaretha stopped and turned around, and Gisela was forced to do the same.

“Gisela, dear.” Evfemia was smiling, actually smiling at her. The friendly look chilled her blood worse than the darkest scowl. What could she be scheming?

Margaretha smiled back, completely unsuspecting.

“Gisela, my dear, aren’t you coming with your family?” Irma was flashing a sinister grin, and Contzel’s mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide and bulging.

Gisela almost said,
What family?
She looked at Margaretha, silently begging for help. But Margaretha only seemed to be waiting for an introduction.

“Lady Margaretha, please allow me to present my stepmother, Evfemia Mueller, and her two daughters, Irma and Contzel.”

“My lady.” Evfemia bowed low. Irma and Contzel curtsied.

Margaretha clasped her hands in front of her chest. “How lovely to meet Gisela’s family. You all must come to the ball tomorrow night.”

“You are too kind,” Evfemia purred. “Please do give your mother and father our greetings and well wishes. You must be so proud of your brother Valten. He has fought well.”

“And you must be so proud of Gisela, our Queen of Beauty and Love.”

Evfemia’s smile faltered.

“I am so delighted with her,” Margaretha went on. “I do hope to call her my sister some day. But I suppose I shouldn’t be saying such things. I will embarrass poor Gisela.”

Yes, and cause Evfemia a fit of fury.

Evfemia recovered well, only turning a slight shade of green, and she seemed to have difficulty swallowing. When she was able to speak again, she said, “We must go home now. Come, Gisela.” Evfemia held out her hand to Gisela.

Gisela turned desperate eyes on Margaretha.

Margaretha said, “I was about to ask if Gisela could sleep in my chamber again tonight, but if you need her to go home …”

“I’m sure my stepmother can spare me,” Gisela said quickly.

“No, in fact I can’t spare you, Gisela.” Evfemia’s eyes glinted. “I need you home with me. Come, come, we will be back tomorrow,” she sang out cheerfully, a cheer that no one except Gisela would suspect held a cartload of malice.

“Very well, then,” Margaretha said. “I shall see you tomorrow, my queen.” She gave Gisela a quick curtsy, then hugged her.

Don’t leave me!
The words were on Gisela’s lips, but she didn’t want Valten’s sister to think she was crazed. She held on to her composure. Besides, what could she say? How could she avoid
going home with her stepmother without causing a disturbance and embarrassing herself and Margaretha — and enraging her stepmother?

As Valten’s sister pulled away, Gisela stared at her, pleading with her to read her thoughts, but Margaretha only turned to speak to the guard who had been watching over Gisela all day.

The guard nodded, took one last long look at Gisela and her stepmother, then followed behind Margaretha through the crowd toward Hagenheim Castle.

“Let us be on our way, Gisela.” Evfemia’s voice was almost normal, almost friendly, almost the voice she used with her own two daughters.

Slowly, Gisela faced her. Her expression looked downright pleasant. It was terrifying.

“Come.” She motioned at Gisela with her hand and started down the steps, but when Gisela didn’t follow her, she said, “You aren’t afraid of your own stepmother, are you? Come, we must go home. The roads will be crowded and you must get your sleep so you can be ready for the ball tomorrow night. We must all be ready, as we were all invited. Didn’t you hear?”

Chapter
13

Was Evfemia sincere? Did she now want to
show respect to Valten’s “Queen of Beauty and Love”? Had she decided to truly be kind, at least on the outside? Gisela didn’t dare believe it. Nevertheless, she followed her stepmother and stepsisters across the grassy slope toward their carriage.

Surely Evfemia wouldn’t harm her with the duke’s family all expecting her to come to the ball tomorrow night. She was the tournament queen, after all. Even Evfemia wouldn’t dare keep her away.

Was she foolish to think that?

She walked slightly behind the three as they made their way down the steps and across the lists. Irma and Contzel kept taking peeks over their shoulders at Gisela, like skittish horses spying something moving in the grass. Were they only biding their time until they got her into the carriage? Would they make her walk home after all? They’d never let her ride in the carriage before.

Soon they found Wido with the horses, waiting patiently. Gisela and Wido exchanged glances. His eyes were wide and curious, and darted briefly at her stepmother waiting by the door.

“After you, my dear.” She graciously allowed Gisela to enter the carriage ahead of her.

Gisela hesitated, but afraid of angering Evfemia, she stepped
onto the first step, then the second, and entered the carriage and sat down on the seat cushion.

Her stepmother came in next, then Irma, both of them sitting across from Gisela. Contzel took the only remaining seat next to Gisela.

She studied their faces, trying not to stare. What was their plan? She suspected by the look on Contzel’s face that she was wondering the same thing, while Evfemia and Irma wore smug expressions. Wido’s weight made the carriage sway as he climbed onto his perch and started the horses forward.

The silence was like a fifth person inside the carriage, taking up all the breathable air. Gisela stared out the tiny window, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything, and out of the corner of her eye she watched for any sign of violence from her stepmother.

“My dear.” Evfemia broke the silence, still sounding as she had in front of Margaretha. “We are so proud of you. It is quite an honor to be chosen by the duke’s own son to be the tournament queen.”

Since when had she ever been proud of Gisela? When had she ever said a kind word to her? If Evfemia thought Gisela would forget all her cruelty and injustice since her father died, she was mistaken.

Gisela gave her a blank stare, the one she used when she didn’t want Evfemia knowing what she was thinking.

“I know I haven’t always been as kind to you as I could have, but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.” Evfemia raised her eyebrows, as though the truth of her statement were indisputable. “You were always so hostile to me and my girls, from the first day we entered your father’s house.”

It was a lie. The truth was that Evfemia had hated Gisela from the moment she set eyes on her.

“But we won’t quarrel about that. What’s past is past.” There
was something sinister hiding behind those thin lips — probably adder venom, or some other deadly poison.

Irma squirmed a bit in her seat, her gaze flicking all around the inside of the carriage, anywhere except at Gisela or her mother. And Contzel was as still as a statue, but there was a wariness behind her eyes, a watchfulness that was a rarity in the girl who seldom stirred from her bed or her most comfortable chair unless forced to.

Perhaps Gisela could sneak out tonight, after they were all asleep, and spend the night at Ava’s house. For now, it was probably best to let them think they were fooling her. They would reveal their intentions sooner if she pretended to believe they were sincere. But she also wouldn’t make it too easy for them. It might be fun to see them squirm.

“Valten would not like to see you mistreating me.”

“Mistreating you? Why, foolish girl, when have I ever mistreated you? But as I said, we won’t quarrel about it. You are our own dear Gisela and we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

With those words, Irma fidgeted even more, and Contzel’s eyes darted around like frightened chickadees.
Oh yes. She’s scheming something, and her girls know it.

“Of course.” Gisela gave her stepmother a fake smile. “Perhaps, if Valten marries me, you and Lady Rose could become bosom friends.”

Evfemia’s face turned red as she stared hard at Gisela.
Trying to tell if I’m lying. Or despising me, and despising the thought of me marrying Valten.
But even now, if her stepmother could put her cruel ways behind her, Gisela would not retaliate against her. She would not want revenge against Evfemia, if only Evfemia could lay aside her own malice.

But that was a big “if.”

“Has the duke’s son asked you to marry him?” Evfemia ran her hand over the material of her skirt, as if trying to smooth out
a wrinkle, finally glancing back up at Gisela with low-hanging eyelids.

“Not yet.”

“Who knows whether he will.” Evfemia shrugged. “Rich men like the Earl of Hamlin can be fickle, especially about a mere orphan girl with no title and no wealth.” The corners of her mouth turned down, as if to say, “Such a pity.”

“Very true, stepmother.”

“But we shall hope for better things, shan’t we?” Evfemia brightened, sitting up straighter in the carriage. “After all, it would benefit all of us if you should marry the duke’s son. However unlikely that might be.”

Yes. However unlikely. Margaretha had said Valten behaved differently toward her, and that she hoped Gisela would be her sister someday. Perhaps he was ready to get married. That was the rumor that had circulated before the tournament. And he could marry anyone he wanted to. But would he want to marry her badly enough to give up marrying a titled lady, with wealth and connections to the king?

She couldn’t think about that now. She had to keep up her guard while in her stepmother’s presence.

“Irma,” Evfemia said, “don’t you think that dress looks beautiful on your sister Gisela?”

Irma’s eyes got big. Her mouth opened, and then closed, as if she’d just swallowed a fly. “Oh-oh, yes, Mother. She looks … very … beautiful.” She looked as if the fly she’d swallowed was coming back up.

“Is that Lady Margaretha’s dress? I saw that she was talking with you.”

“As a matter of fact, it is. I shall return it to her tomorrow.”

“What shall you wear to the ball then?” Evfemia’s evil smile was back on her face.

“I’m sure I have something suitable. Don’t worry, stepmother.”
Gisela grinned to hide her own panic. She hadn’t thought about what she would wear to the all-important event tomorrow night. She knew every dress in her mother’s trunk, and there was nothing that looked as good as the blue one … which she had left at the castle, in Margaretha’s chamber.

The carriage was nearing their home. It was already dark, with the last vestige of sunlight glowing in the sky. Wido stopped the horses, and Irma threw the carriage door open, flouncing out before anyone else. Contzel got out next, moving faster than normal, then Evfemia motioned for Gisela to go next. Once they were all out, Gisela started to help Wido unhitch the horses.

“There’s no need for you to do that.” Evfemia seemed amused. “Come inside, Gisela, and we shall eat something and go to bed. You must not concern yourself with the horses.” She laughed, as if the idea were absurd.

It had never been absurd before. Evfemia had always expected her to take care of their animals. One of the many things her stepmother expected her to do. But she would play along. She was curious to see how far Evfemia would take this farce of Gisela being part of the family.

Gisela went inside, where their middle-aged, white-haired servant, Miep, was setting out the cold meat, cheese, and bread on the large wooden table in the dining hall. Gisela wasn’t even allowed in the room except to clean, and she never ate with Evfemia and her daughters. All her meals since her father’s death had been taken in the kitchen with the other servants. She watched her stepmother and stepsisters from the doorway until Evfemia seemed to notice her there.

“Come.” She motioned Gisela in, as if there was nothing strange about it.

Gisela cautiously stepped inside. She pulled up a simple stool beside Contzel, cut herself some bread, expecting every minute that her stepmother would snatch it away from her. She
then helped herself to some cold roast pork and some cheese. She ate, silently watching her stepsisters and stepmother. Irma and Evfemia seemed to make an effort to smile at her every so often, but Contzel just stared.

When Gisela had eaten, she poured herself some water from the pitcher into a small cup while Evfemia poured from a wine cask.

“Would you like some wine, Gisela?” Evfemia raised her eyebrows.

“No, thank you.”

Gisela drank her water, watching over the rim of the cup. When she finished, she took her cup to the kitchen. Miep gave her a questioning look but said nothing.

Gisela hurried up to her chamber at the top of the stairs. Her stepmother had trapped her inside before. Standing outside her door, she looked behind her down the long staircase. Nobody was in sight. She took the crossbar that was resting beside her door and carried it into her chamber, hiding it in her oldest trunk.