Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  He kissed me hard, pulling me even closer, and we fell asleep.

  NINETEEN

  T he following two days were electric. The castle hummed with activity. Smiling servants rushed through the corridors; laughter echoed off the stone walls. I’d never felt happier though pangs of guilt shot through me whenever I thought of Gigi or Leslie. I only hoped Sapphira was faring well enough in the twenty-first century, and I prayed she’d make a suitable replacement as best friend and great granddaughter. It did give me comfort to know that they might look me up in the history books and find coded messages. And while Elsa, the Baroness’s personal body servant, busied herself with my blonde mass of curls, I thought of ways I might do just that. I did, after all, know the books Leslie perused.

  Elsa held up a mirror and I nodded my head in approval. She’d styled my hair in a traditional manner—looping and knotting braids at the crown of my head. A gold chain had been wound through and placed across my forehead like a halo. This was all in preparation for the second night of a three-day engagement feast. Last night had been the first, and while it was great, the post-party celebration with Conrad in bed was best of all. We had talked about it and were even contemplating getting married now, notifying Monaco Palace after the fact just to be safe, but there was some question as to whether it would lead to bloodshed. Afterall, I had no idea what Sapphira’s brother was like, and my experience with the rest of her family had been less than stellar.

  Regardless, we were having a party and the excitement was contagious, even after the witch inspection incident last night.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Elsa opened it, revealing Conrad, handsomely dressed in his dinner attire. The smell of freshly baked biscuits mixed with meat and fruit wafted up the stairs, and my stomach growled.

  “Prinzessin, du siehst wunderschön,” he said, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips.

  “Danke.” I blushed at the compliment. “You look very handsome as well,” I said. “And this feast smells amazing.”

  “Ja. Wiener schnitzel and strudel.” Conrad replied, entering the room.

  “Mmm... I love the smell of fresh bread.”

  “That would be the Zwieback then.”

  He nodded and walked over to the cabinet. “I’m afraid I have bad news. Shall we have a spritzer or some schnapps on the terrace while I fill you in?”

  “I could definitely use a stiff drink,” I agreed.

  Conrad poured and then handed me a drink and I took a sip, nearly spitting it back out. I coughed. He definitely understood what stiff meant.

  He crossed the room and opened the double doors, revealing more of the mountains and crags bathed in the twilight.

  “Tell me, what is it?” I looked back out at the Swabian Alb, taking in the crisp night air.

  Conrad drained his glass and pulled me closer. “Sapphira.” He paused, embarrassment flashing in his eyes. “I mean Sophia, or—what should I call you?”

  “Why don’t you just continue to call me Sapphira?”

  “Ja, that seems wise.”

  “I’ve just received word that Henri is on his way here. He’s been scouring the Kingdom for you, and it seems he’s come to the conclusion that I’ve either kidnapped you or you’ve run off to be with me.”

  “Oh no. He’s on his way here now. He’ll kidnap me and never let me go. I need to get out of here.”

  “I know. Have no fear, he’s still two days out,” he said, letting go. “It’ll be fine. We’ll attend the celebration tonight and I’ll make the arrangements for us to leave tomorrow but where shall we go. I’m concerned he’ll start a feud between our courts if we don’t address the situation. My parents agree. We need to speak with your mother and Nico about marriage immediately.”

  “So, you’re saying we need to go back to the Palace then.”

  “Ja, and I will make you my wife, and then I’ll deal with that smarmy Comte.”

  “Thank you, Conrad. I look forward to that day.”

  His smile crinkled his eyes and then he leaned forward and kissed me.

  “What is it?” he asked, once we’d pulled away.

  “I was just wondering what changed your mind last night with the old woman? It was so sudden.”

  “Feel this,” he said, taking my hand and rubbing it over a mole on his scalp. “My kindermädchen mentioned it once when I was a boy. She said Großmutter was worried by the shape, so I wore a cap until my hair covered it. That’s why I sent the woman away from you. In my heart I know you are no witch—no more than I—and I don’t care even if you are. I didn’t want to risk her finding a mark like mine on you, even though I didn’t see any myself.” His eyes lit up mischievously. “Although, perhaps I should look again.”

  I laughed.

  “People are quite superstitious in this time, aren’t they?”

  “They aren’t in your time?”

  “Well, yes, but not in the same way. There’s no real danger to superstitions. It’s more for fun—to scare ourselves.”

  He looked puzzled. “Why would anyone want to scare themselves?”

  “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?” I burrowed into the warm curve of his shoulder.

  “We have so much to learn about one another, it will be fun.”

  “Ja, mein lieber.” He sighed and smiled ruefully, down at me. Then he cupped either side of my face, brushing away a loose tear with his thumb, before kissing me gently. I relaxed against him, matching his slow kisses with my own.

  After a moment, he pulled away, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Come now, let’s enjoy the celebration before we have to travel. I trust you did not enjoy that part very much.”

  “No, travel is much nicer where I come from. It doesn’t require a saddle. We have automobiles and planes that fly so it makes the journey much faster.”

  “The sky, you say? Like a bird.”

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure you will be happy here? We have no birds to fly on.”

  “I can make due, but perhaps we could consider a carriage.”

  TWENTY

  I t was several hours past dark when the carriage came to a stop. I moved the curtain and peeked out the window. Monaco Palace loomed before us like a giant beast from a nightmare. Solid, silent and lit up, despite the hour. It was the last place I wanted to return.

  The door was tugged open. The coachman’s sullen face peered in.

  A few trees clustered about the drive, struggling to make a barricade against the rising wind. Thunder cracked, and I could see black clouds settling in against the darkening horizon.

  “I don’t like this,” Conrad said.

  “Yes, it’s very foreboding, but too late. We already decided this is the way it has to happen.”

  Conrad had reluctantly agreed, after several hours of arguing, to drop me off at the front door and return to his cousins to await my signal. I didn’t think he would ever give in, being the dominant male that he was, but my saving grace had been the fact that the history books stated I would not be murdered for another week. I didn’t bring up the conflicting notations, and I didn’t have a death wish but I figured showing up on the doorstep after missing for who knows how long with a man in tow might not be well received.

  “Be careful,” he whispered, pulling me tight to his chest. “If anything feels wrong—even slightly—get out of there. Come to Herr Franz’s. I’ll be keeping watch.”

  “Of course,” I nodded, more to appease him.

  “All right, then?” the coachman said, swinging up to his box. “Shall we be off then, sir?”

  That earned him a nasty look from Conrad, who was not about to be rushed. The moonlight played across his face.

  “We’ll see the lady to the door.” His gaze was pure stone, and the coachman could see it would be useless to argue.

  The darkened windows set into the stone facade indicated there were fires burning and lamps lit inside. Someone was in residence. “No. You’d better stay here. I don’t want to have t
o explain you,” I said, quickly placing my hand on his chest.

  He nodded. I wanted to kiss him but under the watchful eye of the guards I decided against it. Instead, I marched up the wide, shallow stone steps to the huge wooden doors just as the rain started to pour. A porte cochère arch, dark with age, loomed overhead.

  I stood on the stoop and lifted the bronze door knocker and let it drop. The sound of the metal echoed inside. I let the door knocker fall again. Light from the outer lamp glinted off the golden metal. The door opened and I turned to wave goodbye as the noise of the carriage rumbled away. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold in all my life, and I quickly crossed the threshold.

  “Your highness!” Anais shrieked, grabbing my arm, her face creased with a medley of emotions.” She dug her fingernails into my skin and pulled me inside the lavish vestibule.

  “What is all the racket about, Anais? You know—” Seeing me, Lisabetta stopped talking.

  “It’s the Princess, she’s returned.” Anais told the older woman.

  “Of course, she did,” she said as she grabbed on to me, “you poor child, your skin is like ice. Where on earth have you been?” Her kindness, the warmth of the palace with the flickering fire in the hearth brought me close to tears, but I held back. “I want to hug you and shake you all at the same time.

  “Just keep in mind, I bruise easily.” I got a glance at her cheekbone; it looked dark. “Speaking of bruises. Where did you get that?”

  “Never you mind,” said as she took me in her arms and began to fuss over me, pulling the damp shawl off my shoulders and brushing my hair off my face.

  She tugged me and I allowed myself to be escorted up the staircase, where we were once again in the Princess’s suite. Where have you been all this time?” Her arms enveloped me, and she stroked my back as if she were soothing a child. “The Comte de Chalais has been tearing the countryside apart searching for you.”

  “So, I heard.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been worried sick!”

  I pulled away, and she paused long enough to look me over.

  “It’s a long story, and no one would believe me anyway.”

  “Now don’t go lumping me in with most people.” She frowned, looking around the room. “Anais!” she yelled, waving a hand. “Bring some warm cider before the princess catches her death.”

  Anais glanced at the door and then at me before shuffling quickly into the vestibule.

  “And don’t forget the whiskey to chase the dampness from her bones.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “And then you can finish drawing her a nice, warm bath. I’ll get it started.”

  “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, now go.” Lisabetta stood still, eyes fixed on me, until she heard the door close. Her face showed lines of strain, and shadows of sleeplessness smudged her eyes. In an instant I felt guilty, realizing that these women truly cared about Sapphira. I had been thoughtless to take off on them. Although what choice had there been?

  Lisabetta came toward me and began to undo my laces.

  “Come now, Sapphira, let’s get you out of those damp clothes.” Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she stripped the wet petticoats away.

  She disappeared into the bathroom—or the water closet, as she called it—and returned with a robe.

  “You said Henri was worried. Where is he now?” I mumbled, as she filled the tub.

  “I said he was out searching the hills for you. I said I was worried,” she corrected. There was something funny about the remark and the way she said it, but before I could ask her about it, she was out the door, soiled clothes and all. I had a feeling she’d flaked on purpose to avoid an explanation. Well, she won’t avoid it for long.

  I sat down to sift through the pristinely polished, mahogany desk but a light tapping broke my concentration.

  “Come in” I called, glancing at the door. It creaked open and Anais bustled in. “Here’s your cider, mademoiselle.” She set down the laden tray full of goodies.

  “Thank you, Anais. That’s very thoughtful,” I answered, sauntering over to the great hearth.

  “Shall I pour it for you now, Princess, or would you prefer to wait?” she asked.

  “Yes, please,” I answered, smiling at her.

  I glimpsed out the window, wondering what Conrad was doing, and smiled politely as she handed me the cup and saucer.

  “I’m sorry if we upset you earlier, mademoiselle, but we were anxious over your disappearance,” Anais exclaimed, setting the pot down. “And Monsieur Le Comte was so vexed.”

  “No worries, Anais. I get it. I sent the palace into a tizzy. Are my mother and Nico home? I must see them at once,” I said, taking a sip and letting the warm whisky-cider heat my insides.

  “Just a minute, Your Highness. I need to finish filling your bath or Lisabetta will have my hide.”

  I smiled, knowing that was probably the truth of it. That woman ran a tight ship. She vanished while I hopped in the water and then both she and Lisabetta returned. I immediately faced them.

  “So, what’s going on?”

  They shared a look.

  “I can sense there’s something wrong. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dare deny it, mademoiselle.” Lisabetta frowned.

  “Is Henri angry?”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  “Did he hit you, Lisabetta?”

  No reply.

  “Well?” I asked, lifting my brow.

  “That man,” Lisabetta huffed. “He could hold a candle to the devil,” she whispered, as if the walls could hear. “He was surely aggravated when you disappeared. He went out in search of you a week ago, returning last night in a terrible temper.”

  “I’ll deal with him when he gets here, but first I need to see my mother or Nico.”

  “They’re not here and I humbly caution you to watch your tongue when you see the Comte. I’ve never seen him so foul.”

  Henri, I mused to myself after the ladies left. I could understand his frustration if he was worried, scouring the countryside for his—what was I to him anyway? He seemed to be in tight with Sapphira’s family. A cousin? Or just another man interested in courting Sapphira?

  Surely, there was an explanation for his rash behavior—but to hit a woman. The bastard was probably terrified to explain to his Prince that he lost the Princess. That had to be it. But the more I thought about it the more suspicious I grew. Why should Henri be so furious?

  TWENTY-ONE

  T he next day, I heard Henri and his men arrive home on horseback. I hurried down the stairs, rehearsing the flawless explanation Lizzy and I’d come up with. Lizzy was my new personal nickname for Lisabetta. She did not approve but what could she do—I was the Princess. At least as far she knew.

  I was still smiling thinking of that conversation when I caught sight of the fury on Henri’s face. So, not a good time then. I turned on my heels to head back upstairs.

  “Stop right there!” Henri ordered.

  Oh, sugar shack!

  “Turn around!”

  I turned and saw Lizzy by the edge of the doorway, her hands over her mouth, staring at me. A moment passed before I realized why. This asshole was actually pointing a sword at me.

  “Where were you?” he bellowed.

  “Ugh…” Shit! Everything we’d rehearsed flew straight out my head. A common side effect to swords, I guessed.

  As I stood there, panic stricken like an elementary student with stage fright—minus the urine-soaked pants, he took two steps toward me and grabbed me roughly by the arm. “Answer me—now!” he raged, throwing his weapon aside. It stuck in a bureau not a foot away from where Lisabetta stood. I’d expected annoyance, but I was shocked by his grip.

  I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could speak. “I was spending time with a friend as intended.” I pulled away and tried to compose myself. If I was gonna pull this off, I was going to have to step up my acting skills
r />   Henri gave me a strange look but made no response.

  “M-mother was aware of this. I’m assuming she didn’t tell you.” I summoned the haughtiest voice I could muster.

  “No, she didn’t. How could she? She isn’t here. Why didn’t any of the servants know? Or were they covering for you?” Henri demanded, turning his ominous glare to poor Lizzy. She dropped her head.

  I could still make out the faint bruising. Pity washed over me, but I pushed it down and strolled to the window.

  “What? Am I to answer to the servants all of a sudden?” I forced a haughty laugh. “Of course, they didn’t know. Why would I speak to them? What do you care, anyway? You’re hardly my keeper.”

  Henri leaned forward, his face ablaze “You know very well I am your keeper.”

  “Really? Well, that’s news to me. I’m going to my room to lie down—perhaps you’d like to write that down as not to over react later. As soon as my mother returns, please send for me.”

  I stuck my chin out, hoping I hadn’t pushed it too far.

  “As you wish,” he responded, in a calm but clipped tone. The devious look settling on his face made my nerves stand on end like a cat in a puddle. What does he have up his sleeve? I turned to climb the stairs ignoring the hair on my neck which was practically screaming at me.

  “Oh, Princess.” Henri paused, smiling mischievously. “I will be up a little later to ask you a few more questions. Until then my friend Alastríona will be keeping an eye—I mean keeping you company. I hope you won’t mind.” He opened the door and headed back outside, leaving me pondering his next move.

  I didn’t sleep that night and was informed at breakfast that Henri had a particular excursion he wished me to accompany him on. I met him downstairs, and he took my arm.

  “Good morning, ma chèrie,” he said. “Shall we begin our adventure?”

  Adventure, hell no! I thought to myself. These days, I could do with a lot less adventure.

  I straightened my shoulders and followed him to the travelling coach parked outside. Hey Henri. Cinderella called; she wants her flashy pumpkin back.