While Beauty Slept (22 page)

We sprang up from the bench and moved a decent distance apart as the sound of laughter and thudding footsteps grew closer. I peered out through the bushes and saw Lord Steffon and one of Lenore’s ladies-in-waiting tumble to the ground in an embrace, their exploration of each other’s body advanced well beyond kissing.

Putting my fingers to my lips to urge silence, I guided Marcus away from the intruders, toward Flora’s herb garden and the hidden door that led back into the castle. Once inside, we laughed conspiratorially at our near discovery, but the presence of other people dampened the ease we had felt when we were alone. I did not offer him my hand, and he did not reach for it.

Marcus followed me back through the servants’ corridors, past the kitchens and into the rear courtyard. The flagstones in front of the stables had been given over to dancing, and the sound of stamping feet and raucous singing almost drowned out the fiddles and drums.

“It’s very late,” Marcus said. “My father will fret if I’m gone much longer.”

I could not hide my disappointment. I had hoped he would ask me to dance, that I might revel in the feel of his hands on my shoulders and waist.

“It’s only . . . he’s not been well lately,” Marcus explained. “He’s had some rheumatism in his legs, and now it has moved to his arms. He’ll be counting on me to be up early tomorrow to help him.”

“I understand, of course. Let me show you out.”

Together we wove through the crowd, each step taking us closer to the castle gate and the moment we would say farewell. Groups of guards lingered against the walls, guffawing and calling out to pretty girls. My hands clutched my skirt, desperate with frustration. How could we part in such a manner, talking politely of his father’s health as if nothing had changed? During my time at court, I had listened to Queen Lenore recite countless poems celebrating romance. In the stories one kiss was enough to seal eternal love, yet Marcus had not swooned and declared his devotion. I was no fairy-tale heroine, speaking in elegant rhyme, and he was far from a prince. How did two such people read each other’s hearts?

We arrived at the gate. “I am glad you came,” I said, willing my voice to remain steady.

“Me, too.”

I thought that would be all. But then Marcus leaned down toward my neck, so close that his breath tickled my skin. “I must see you again. When?”

I felt the ache in my stomach that had lurched to life when his mouth met mine. He brushed a fingertip along my palm, a gesture small and swift enough to be unnoticed by the guards, and I slid my arm against his, feeling the fabric of his shirt ruffle my sleeve.

“I am relieved of my duties most Sunday afternoons,” I murmured. “But there are few places here for me to receive guests.”

“We could meet in St. Elsip. I will take you anywhere you like.”

“Anywhere?” I asked with a mischievous smile. Our thoughts circled each other, unspoken yet understood.
I will go anywhere, as long as I can embrace you once again, feel your mouth upon mine and match my breath with yours, look into your eyes and know that here, at last, is the one I have waited for. . . .

I knew that Marcus would not kiss me in view of the rowdy guards. But I allowed myself to imagine it. His fingers reached out and gripped mine, and it was all I could do not to wrap my arms around him. But I held myself composed. I was skilled at presenting a blank front to the world, tamping down whatever feelings raged within.

“Sunday, then,” I said. “I will send word to your father’s shop once I have received the queen’s permission.”

It was only after I watched his figure receding slowly down the hill that I allowed my delight free rein. I raced toward Queen Lenore’s chambers, feet skipping up the stairs, a puppet’s legs pulled by invisible strings. I tiptoed into the bedroom, expecting the queen to be asleep, but found the room empty. I walked back to the sitting room in time to see her emerge from Rose’s room next door.

“My lady,” I said, surprised. “I am so sorry. Were you waiting for me to prepare you for bed?”

“No, no,” she said softly. “I was sitting with Rose.” She did not meet my eyes, and I wondered if she was reverting to her vigilant habits, watching each rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, prodding the poor girl until a whimper assured that she still lived.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked, forcing a smile.

A minute earlier I could not have kept myself from burbling with happiness about Marcus. But something in the queen’s face stopped me. Tonight was not the time for girlish confidences.

“I did not think so many people could pack into the courtyard and still breathe,” I said. “Toasts are being made in your family’s honor throughout the castle.”

“We shall tell my grandchildren of it one day, shall we?”

I saw it in her eyes, the desperate desire to believe that Rose would grow up and marry and have children, continuing the king’s bloodline into future generations.

“Indeed we will,” I said confidently. “Along with a lifetime of other happy memories.”

Such foolish promises came easily to a girl still giddy from her first kiss. For me, Millicent’s curse had faded to a whisper, its harshness worn smooth with time. I did not know then how her hateful words still lingered in Queen Lenore’s mind, poisoning any joy she took in her daughter. For she could not look upon Rose without remembering the terrible bargain she had made, promising subservience to Millicent in exchange for a child. When Millicent’s name echoed through the castle once again, the queen was the only one who was not surprised, for she was the only one who had never lost sight of the shadow that hung over us all.

It was a sweltering evening, not long after the tournament, and my thoughts were still caught up with Marcus, whom I was due to see again in a few days. Although I had told the queen I would be spending Sunday afternoon in St. Elsip, I had allowed her to assume I was seeing my aunt. My cautious nature warned that the events of a single evening were too unstable a foundation on which to pin all my hopes, and I dreaded facing her questions if the encounter did not go well. What if Marcus and I did not perceive each other the same way in daylight, without ale to loosen our tongues?

I was brushing out Queen Lenore’s hair in preparation for bed when the king suddenly strode through the door that linked his bedchamber with that of his wife.

“She is found!”

Confused, I paused, holding the brush in midair. But the queen’s shoulders stiffened, and her face took on a harsh cast. She knew immediately of whom the king spoke. Through the open doorway behind him, I could see figures huddled in conversation. The queen reached for her husband’s arm, and her skin whitened with the force of her grip.

“Where?” she whispered.

“Far from here, love, have no fear.”

King Ranolf began to pace back and forth across the room, his words tumbling out in rhythm with his steps.

“Aunt Millicent is cunning, I’ll give her that. To remain hidden all this time, despite the gold I offered as a reward for news. Now, at last, we know where she has sought refuge. Brithnia.”

What little I knew of Brithnia was from stories my mother told at bedtime, when she calmed my brothers and me for sleep. She had spoken of a harsh, rugged land, a country where rocky fortresses guarded stark mountaintops and the people dug ore from eerie caverns deep in the earth. To me the place was no more real than a fairy tale.

“A godforsaken country if ever there was one,” said King Ranolf. “I traveled there in my youth, and a week was enough to last me a lifetime. Be that as it may, the king did share my love of horsemanship, and he is one of the many I sent word to when Millicent disappeared, though I doubted she would flee in that direction. Crossing the mountains to reach Brithnia is an undertaking that defeats even the young and healthy. But it seems she has managed it.”

Queen Lenore’s eyes widened. “Why would she go there?”

King Ranolf shook his head. “Whatever her reasons, it has delivered a way out of her predicament. When Millicent arrived at the court, she begged refuge from the queen and was granted protection. The Brithnians treat their elders with the greatest respect, and it would be seen as an abomination if the king betrayed that promise of shelter.”

“She lives there as an honored guest?” the queen demanded, her voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch. “Gathering strength for another attack?”

My own pulse quickened in sympathy. Were Millicent to return, what revenge might she take on me for defying her orders on the night of Rose’s birth? Or would she work more deviously, using her wiles to ensure I was her puppet once again? Deep down I feared I would never be sure of my own loyalties.

King Ranolf took hold of his wife’s shoulders. Bending, he looked directly into her eyes, calming her with the force of his attention.

“In his letter the king states that he can take no action against her. But he will not stop me from doing as I see fit.”

He sank onto his wife’s bed, his body sagging with the weight of his decision. It was the only time I had seen his mantle of certainty slip. Whatever softness the king had once possessed had been chipped away by his aunt’s treachery, and he had become a brusquer, more demanding ruler, one who could be goaded into a smile only by the daughter he called Beauty. Yet his precautions had kept us safe.

“If I order my own kinswoman killed, it will play into the hands of my enemies. They will paint me as a monster.”

To me the decision was so clear that I was astonished by his hesitation.
She wished death upon you and your child!
I wanted to cry out.
She is the monster, not you!

“What shall you do?” Queen Lenore asked.

“I will ask the Brithnians to keep us apprised of her whereabouts, but that is all for now. She is an old woman. Nature will take its course soon enough, and her death will not be on our heads.”

Lenore’s voice was cold, her face set in an expression of grim resolution. “If you think it best.”

Why, oh, why did she not demand Millicent’s head? The king would have done anything for her had she set herself to pleading. But she chose to be a good wife, acquiescing to her husband’s wishes, and Millicent slipped from our grasp. How could any of us have known that this moment was a turning point, the last chance to thwart her monstrous plans? In granting Millicent a reprieve, the king had signed his own death warrant.

Lady Wintermale’s strident voice rang out from the sitting room. “Is it true?”

She burst through the doorway in her usual imperious manner but stopped as soon as she saw the king. “Beg your pardon, I did not mean to interrupt.”

“If you are referring to the rumors about Millicent, they are true,” King Ranolf said calmly. “The queen will inform you of the details. I must be off.”

His words were curt, but his manner was tender as he paused to kiss his wife’s cheek. Her body softened at his touch.

Once the king had gone, Lady Wintermale demanded a full accounting, huffing in disgust when she heard of the king’s decision to leave Millicent be. Had she been a man, I have no doubt she would have set off for Brithnia to strike down Millicent herself.

“The Brithnians are no better than savages,” she fumed. “Imagine, giving refuge to one who has cursed a child, heir to the throne!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Queen Lenore said. “My husband has made his decision. We must find consolation in knowing that Millicent is so far away.”

“A certain person could have spared you the worry,” Lady Wintermale muttered.

Queen Lenore’s mouth tightened in disapproval. “Flora has assured me repeatedly that she knows nothing of Millicent’s whereabouts.” She turned to me. “Elise, you must inform Flora of this news at once. See if she has any advice on how we should proceed.”

“Advice!” Lady Wintermale sputtered. After I had taken my leave, she followed me out the door and into the corridor, then grabbed at my sleeve to stop me.

“The queen may believe what Flora tells her, but I do not. She is Millicent’s sister, remember that.”

“Flora promised the queen she would protect Rose,” I said.

“Words, words,” Lady Wintermale said dismissively. “Easy to say and easily forgotten. Flora has spent her entire life under Millicent’s thumb. The bond between them . . .” She hesitated, her wary eyes silently acknowledging that she was treading dangerous ground. “It’s not natural. I was raised here, in this very castle, and I saw how their father spoiled them rotten. He built the North Tower for Flora and Millicent, did you know that? Created the most sumptuous living quarters ever seen in the kingdom, all so his daughters would stay and raise their families here, by his side. Yet, rich and beautiful as they were, neither married. Is that not strange?”

“They must have had suitors?”

Lady Wintermale shrugged, her face hinting that she knew more than she was telling. “Millicent frightened most men off. She never tried to hide her cleverness, and no husband wants to be bested by his wife. Flora did have one serious prospect, for a time, but Millicent’s jealousy drove him away. He died young, and poor dear Flora went mad with grief, or so the story goes. I am sure you have heard some version of that sorry tale, but I hope you will not be gullible enough to indulge her whims because of it. It may not even be the truth. Some say the sisters never married because they preferred to share a bed with each other and the guilt of such wickedness is what addled Flora’s brain. Though I would never spread such vicious rumors myself.”