Half-Demon's Revenge

by Lina J. Potter

  “How many months?”

  Jess thought for a minute. “About three months. Or four.”

  “Will you bring her to court after the birth?”

  Jess made a face. “I’m sorry, Uncle, but I’d rather not.”

  “Think about it. You won’t have to see her often, and…”

  “No. She can stay in Earton, so I don’t have to see her ever. I sent her a physician and some money. That’s more than enough!”

  Edward shook his head. He had given up trying to raise his son. The boy was already a man, and the king had problems of his own. “What other news is there?”

  “I have some reports from the boatyard. We can build very good boats using the drawings we borrowed from Fereiry. The shipwrights want to build one as a trial to see how it turns out.”

  “And you agree with them?”

  “Of course! August is curious to see the result, as well. I’ve brought the drawings to show you. Would you like to take a look?”

  “I have some reports from the treasury to go over. Do you have any idea how much they stole this month?”

  “I don’t. I want to build the boat using my own money. It will have two decks, with—”

  “Tell me about it later. Have you seen Richard?”

  “Not yet. Should I?”

  “Yes. I have decided it is time for him to marry. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything scandalous in the meantime. Is that clear?”

  Jess grinned. Edward’s heart skipped a beat. How he looks like his mother!

  “Of course, Uncle. I’ll watch him. Who is he going to marry?”

  “Marry? I don’t know. There are two princesses that I know of who are the right age. It will be either Anna of Wellster or Lidia of Ivernea.”

  “But—”

  “Both girls’ families want to be chosen. The Wellsters have five other daughters, so they’d like to get rid of one. Anna is the right age, and my contacts tell me she is attractive.”

  “That’s good. At least Richard wouldn’t need a handkerchief in order to sleep with her. What about Lidia?”

  “She’s the only unmarried daughter in Ivernea. She’s never been married or even engaged. They say she’s plain as a wool sock[4].”

  “That bad?”

  “Anna is certainly the more handsome of the two.”

  “Then why not choose Anna?”

  “Beauty isn’t everything. And I want Richard to have a choice; I was never allowed to choose.”

  “You made your choice later,” Jess winked. “I think you did the right thing. My aunt was still beautiful at forty.”

  “Like I said, beauty isn’t everything. Jessie was kind and intelligent. Those are much more important qualities in a wife.”

  Jess’s face fell. Then he shook himself and smiled again. “I’m no king, so my wife can have as many children as she wants. I’ll find kindness and intelligence somewhere else. They say Lady Wells has returned. She needs someone to console her after the death of her old, awful husband.”

  Edward shook his head. “How is your daughter?”

  Jerrison’s face lit up with a smile. “Miranda is sharp as a tack. Her teachers are pleased with her. But I can’t take her with me.”

  “Send her to the country.”

  “To be with Lilian?”

  “Do you have another choice? Send governesses and nannies with her. People you trust.”

  “I may have to do that.”

  “What if you send her to your sister?”

  “There’s no point trying. You should have seen how Miranda screamed and cried after her last visit. She refuses to see Amalia, and I haven’t the slightest idea why.”

  “Fine. You’ll figure out what to do with her. Give it some thought. Now, leave me those drawings and run off. Just don’t let Richard get into trouble. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Jess replied. He gave a military salute and disappeared out the door.

  The king shook his head as he watched him go. Good-for-nothing pup. Nobody could claim that the young man was especially talented. He didn’t win all his games of squares[5], he didn’t command the best regiment in Ativerna, and he didn’t get up extra early to get a jump on his affairs. He didn’t have a hard body with muscles of steel under his courtly clothing, and he probably wasn’t prepared to give his life for his country and his brother.

  No, Jess was just a typical courtier. He liked to play with expensive toys and gilded weapons. He was just like all the rest of them. None the less, Edward thought that he and Jessie had made a wonderful child. Perfect in every way.

  His Majesty sighed and turned back to the Treasury reports. He knew his duty.

  ***

  Lady Adelaide Wells was overjoyed. She kept it under wraps, of course; a lady was not supposed to be in high spirits just three months after her husband’s passing—even if that husband was fifty-two years her senior and the bane of her existence, constantly blowing his nose, coughing, and sweating. Even if he was a source of daily torment, a widowed lady was supposed to mourn.

  So, Adelaide mourned. She did a beautiful job of it. Other women were welcome to sob until the paint came off their faces. Adelaide would mourn in her own way, with just one diamond-like tear lingering in the corner of her eye. And she would have the most wonderful mourning clothes.

  With her black hair and dark-brown eyes, green[6] looked good on her, especially with the right powder and blush. She knew how to use makeup; she had suffered a bout of smallpox five years before and had learned to conceal the few scars remaining on her cheeks. They didn’t mar her beauty in the least.

  She was sure to find another husband, but she didn’t want to find him right away. Society was permissive with young widows. They could get away with a lot, as long as they observed certain proprieties, and Adelaide was an expert. She had learned to be cautious at the tender age of fourteen.

  ***

  “That’s enough, Richard. Let’s go. Camelia is putting on a fantastic show this evening.”

  Adelaide started when she heard the man’s voice. She knew that she wasn’t the type of woman that interested Richard, and she had heard that he would be marrying soon. She wouldn’t waste her time or risk her reputation. She felt she was more attractive as a widow in mourning than as the prince’s abandoned lover. The man walking next to Richard, however, aroused her serious interest. Adelaide noticed his broad shoulders, the cut and cloth of his tunic, and the expensive weapons he carried. This was a man worth her time.

  He looks like he could do more than snore in bed, and he’d send me expensive gifts afterward. Adelaide was not feeling particularly wealthy on her own. Her husband had left her a sizeable sum, but a house in the capital, a carriage, expensive gowns and jewelry—it all added up. The stranger was just what she needed.

  She went into action, unhooking the brooch from the light shawl she wore around her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. The brooch, an aromatic sphere made just for such purposes, rolled obediently across the floor in just the right direction. This was the key moment. “I apologize, My Lord. My brooch!”

  She fell to her knees to retrieve the golden sphere and looked up into the eyes of the man, who had also bent down to pick it up. She blushed deeply and looked him in the eye before dropping her lashes. Her silk shawl slid from her shoulders, revealing her full breasts in a low-cut décolleté.

  The man was composed as he gave her one hand and carefully replaced the shawl with the other. As he took his hand from her shoulder, his fingers ran lightly over her breast. Adelaide knew this was a test. If she made the wrong move, the man would visit her bed, but he wouldn’t stay, and she wanted him to stay.

  She took a step back and blushed even brighter before lowering her eyes and whispering, “Thank you, My Lord. Forgive me, Your Highness.” Then she got out of the room as fast as she could so that Richard could tell his friend all he knew about her.

  She would use her time to find out more about the ma
n. Hunting season is open. There was something exquisite about hunting while pretending to be the prey. The only thing that worried Adelaide was the thick wedding bracelet on the man’s wrist. A wife, however, was less of an obstacle than a husband.

  She needed to find out who he was right away.

  Growing and Learning

  Despite her best intentions, Aliya remained in bed and in a trance the first ten days. And she had a cold.

  In Ella’s books, when characters found themselves in a parallel world, they just shrugged their shoulders and marched off to change it however they wanted. They made it look easy. Aliya didn’t believe life worked that way. And she didn’t really read Ella’s fantasy books; she just flipped through them at night when she wanted to fall asleep. It helped. Now, however, she was sorry she hadn’t read more about time travelers, those unfortunate wretches. If she had, she would at least know where to start.

  As it was, she was clueless, and her inability to find a starting point left her in a dark depression. Besides, she couldn’t stop worrying about lice and fleas. Somewhere, she had read that French women used to use gold tweezers to catch fleas; just the thought made her nauseous. So, her only demands were hot water for a bath every day and a daily change of sheets. Close inspections of her hair revealed no insects; that was good news.

  Aliya wanted to stay in bed as long as she could. She usually didn’t allow herself to fall to pieces like this, but her body hurt like nothing she had experienced before. Just getting out of bed to take a bath was an ordeal; her muscles shook, sweat stood out on her skin, and she felt dizzy. She was in the wrong world in the wrong body, and those two things came with side effects—muscle spasms, for example, or sudden fits of hysterical crying. Common sense told her that there was nothing to cry about, but the tears just streamed down her face.

  She had strange nightmares… in bright colors… about a little girl.

  She sat at a table while an oddly familiar woman pleaded with her.

  “Eat a spoonful for Mama, eat a spoonful for Papa.”

  “I don’t want to!” she complained. “Leave me alone, Nanny!”

  Porridge and spoon fly off the table, but, instead of boxing her ears like Aliya would have been tempted to do, the nanny picks her up and continues to plead with her. “Lily, my dear, my angel…”

  Then the picture changes.

  Grown-up Lilian is watching a dream as if it were a movie on television. She sees the same girl at five, at seven, at ten… She throws tantrums, tries on new dresses, argues, demands something, hits a servant in the face, screams at a tired old man.

  Somehow, Aliya knew that the old man is Lilian’s father. The dream was unpleasant, but Aliya couldn’t turn it off. Then the picture changed, swimming up out of a dark pool of memories.

  “Daughter, the Earl of Earton has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  “The earl?”

  “Yes. I have decided to give my consent.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you to ask my opinion? Is he old and horrible?”

  “The earl is young and very handsome.”

  That doesn’t stop her; she yells and throws something that looks like a vase. Her father holds firm. The picture changed again.

  An engagement party. She saw a handsome young man with long, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a hard, muscular body… She also saw distaste in his eyes. He bent down to hand her a bouquet of flowers. He said something to her. Her heart is racing so fast she’s afraid he can hear it.

  Is this really my husband? To have and to hold, for better and for worse…

  The young man’s lips touched her plump hand. Her cheeks grew suspiciously warm. But his eyes remained cold and unemotional. He just didn’t care about any of this. He was indifferent, and that scared her.

  She was also scared of the wedding night. When the time came, she blew out all the candles. Her young husband stubbed his toe on a piece of furniture and cursed. Then he lights a candle.

  “Please don’t,” she begged him.

  “Why? Do you think being in the dark will give me feelings for you?”

  She froze. Her husband went on, his tone lethal. “I’m not attracted to you in the least, but I have to have an heir. Your job is to lie still and keep your mouth shut. Maybe that way, I won’t feel so nauseous.”

  She couldn’t remember what came next. She just remembered the humiliation… and the sharp pain between her legs that she felt after each visit from her husband.

  She was like a second-rate purebred mare—not a person, not a lover, not even a wife.

  She was just a vessel he would use to obtain an heir.

  Icy, black despair rolled over her.

  At first, Aliya didn’t understand what the dreams were. Then it hit her. Her mind was her own, but she still had Lilian’s memories, knowledge, habits, reflexes… Two people had merged into one. Aliya was the stronger of the two, and she was used to assimilating large amounts of information, so she simply assimilated Lilian Earton’s memory.

  It was the memory of an unhappy young woman who simply wanted a family and children and to be loved by her husband, but was met with cold contempt instead.

  On the tenth night, Aliya dreamed about her accident in shocking clarity. She heard the crunch and saw the column of flames rising into the sky from the wreckage. Then, she saw her parents. Her father was wearing his dress uniform, and her mother was young and beautiful. They looked at her with reproach, displeased with her. Aliya was upset, wondering what she had done.

  Then she understood. They hadn’t raised her to just give up and die; they wanted more for her. They were dead, but she was alive.

  She was finally truly convinced that she could do this. The woman who had gotten in bed the night before had been confused, trying to figure out what had happened to her and where she was, but the woman who woke up in the morning was decisive. She put her feet firmly on the floor and launched a mission to change her life.

  ***

  Aliya began by studying her new world. At night, she wandered through the house to discover where everything was, hiding whenever she heard servants near. In the early morning, she slept and watched Lilian Earton’s dreams. She had fewer of them now, and they had lost their bright colors and drifted away from her, just like Lilian was drifting away. In the evening, Aliya listened to her nanny, Martha, tell stories.

  Through her wanderings, Aliya learned that Earton Castle was built in the shape of a letter H lying on its back. The center bar of the H was the largest part of the castle. The first floor had an enormous hall, a ballroom, a smaller hall and a dining room. The upper right end of the castle held a library, the earl’s study, a music room for the ladies, and a game room for when the weather was bad. This part of the castle was obviously for guests and had a door that led to a porch overlooking the garden.

  The kitchen was on the lower right end of the castle. On the first floor were the rooms where the servants did their work, as well as the entrance to the cellar and storerooms, where valuables, such as fabric and furniture, were kept. The servants’ bedrooms were on the second floor.

  The lower left arm was divided into a portrait gallery, a knight’s hall and armory on the first floor, and rooms for guests on the first and second floors. The upper left arm of the castle belonged entirely to the family. The castle’s four arms were only connected through its center, with gorgeous, massive wooden staircases leading to the second floor of each arm.

  The whole place needed a good cleaning, in her opinion. The curtains hadn’t been washed in ages, there was dust everywhere, and spiders had taken over all the quiet corners. So what if the ceilings are fifteen feet high? Haven’t they invented ladders yet? She would have to see about that.

  Several centuries’ worth of soot had accumulated on those high ceilings, and there were rooms in the castle where the corners smelled suspiciously of urine. Do they not make it to the toilet in time, or do they just not care? What an aristocratic pigsty!

  When Aliya fi
nally found the actual privy, she almost vomited. She located it by following the smell, which was strong enough to knock out a fly. She opened the door and saw a room with a hole in the floor. No running water, no nothing. Whatever went into the hole ran through a stone pipe into a ditch outside. Aliya decided she would have to do something about that, too.

  She noticed that most of the doors in the castle were unlocked and that the few locks being used were primitive. The lock on the door leading to the storerooms was an ancient hunk of metal, but after studying it, Aliya figured any ten-year-old with the nerve could open it using a pen. The only danger was the lock’s weight; if you dropped it on your foot, you’d need crutches the rest of your life.

  She wasn’t interested in the storerooms behind the locked door; she wanted to find the library. Aliya had always valued a good education, and she would need to know how to write and count according to local custom in order to avoid being taken advantage of. She had things to accomplish, so she was relieved when she finally found what she sought.

  Her relief didn’t last long. She reached for a book and gasped in horror. She reached for a second book, and then a third. They were all manuscripts written on parchment. She opened as many books as she could; first on one shelf, then the next, as far up as she could reach. A stash of unused parchment got her hopes up, but they fell again when she found a goose feather dipped in ink. One more item hit her to-do list: find a blacksmith and get some pens made.

  The best thing she discovered in the library was that she could read the local language. She was as slow as a first-grader, but she could read. That was important.

  The next book she laid her hands on had an intriguing title: “A Detailed Description of the Lands, People and Customs of the World, Made by the Humble Kalerius of Ativerna.” That sounds useful. She hoped the book wasn’t a work of fiction, like Gulliver’s Travels. And she hoped Lilian’s brain was capable of reading a whole book.

  Aliya could tell that her host didn’t like to study. Lilian preferred embroidering with gold thread. Taking a deep breath, Aliya set the geography book aside. She would read it later. She also slipped a few pieces of parchment into the book, but not too many, so that no one would notice.