To be responsible for ensuring it did, now he was not so sure he would be able to go through with it.
"Are you saying that because you're confident that it has, or because there is no room for failure?"
"Both." Yet neither.
She gulped, loud enough to make her conscious considering the little squeak that followed. "I-I won't fail. I will not have failed. There's a Hanson child in me, I know it."
"Then remember what I've told you. You are not to tell anyone of what you have done when we arrive home." He sat back heavily, looking from her to the pastures again. "Gods know what Father will have you drink to rid of it."
He could feel her shudder. "I won't tell a soul, or let my tongue be torn from my mouth. This is between myself, you, Prince Tristian, and the gods. Father will know when my pregnancy is confirmed," she paused, "My pregnancy. How strange that sounds."
"You've nothing to fear. I will be with you until the time you leave for Redthorn, and even then, Prince Tristian did seem genuinely fond of you. I trust he will treat you well." If not, she did have one friend in Redthorn outside of that man.
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "He did seem fond, didn't he? I wonder if he thought me a child at times. He gave me my lovely present too."
The details, he despised them.
He loosened his tightened grip and forced a smile. "Well let us hope he, too, gave you what we sought. Do you think Ethan and Eleanor have missed our company?" There was no chance of Edgar having thought twice about them.
She giggled. "I think they would have been at each other's throats too much to miss us. Either that or we will return to them and they will be in a blissful state of love. How do you bet?"
"I don't." He was far away again, where he discovered his body wished not to return to that cold land or his parents' cold eyes. Though it was but an infantile admission, he had—dare he say—enjoyed those imbecilic activities thrown at them since the moment they stepped foot from the carriage. He was not one to indulge the garrulous tongues of Redthorn's women, but there had been something faintly enticing with the glances cast furtively and what was open, shameless compliments or disdain expressed by all.
Rhenan had been correct. They were so different from his land of ice and castles built on lies, men and women who spoke with the obscurest of words.
In one respect, he supposed he should have been happy. Astrid would be free of Thellemere. With any luck, Edgar could be sent far from the kingdom as well, and that left himself, whom Mother and Father would likely have married to an odd Lady of the northern mountain ranges for their high production of iron and coal.
But his path led back to Redthorn inevitably. Ridding of its king and seeing to it that his sister ascended to the highest possible station she could with no one to stand in her way. Including Queen Petra; the prince had not mentioned her on his list, but the woman was officially on his own.
"The necklace," he asked after a short time, inexorably. "Do you see yourself falling in love with this man?"
Could such things be helped?
"I think I already have."
Had his chest ever known such burning pain?
She shifted her body to better gaze at the passing scenery, as if she was too ashamed to meet his eye, though he too could not bear to look at her pretty face all aglow with this newly professed love. "Sorry," she said.
"Doesn't matter," he said.
"I'll still love you though. You do know that?"
"Of course."
For one who did not cope well with drastic change, his sister was far better at it than he at the moment.
"You do know that this is my second choice at how I want to live my life. If I had the choice, that is. You know what would be first, yes?"
"We'll not speak of it anymore. For now we are to make sure you remain in good health, remain unnoticed." Unnoticed, as if such a thing were possible with how closely Mother held her beneath the lens. "Just be careful with your body until you are to return here to these summerlands, and in the meantime, it might be best if we not encourage these things. I apologise for asking about your heart's opinion to begin with."
"Yes, big brother," came her words of gentle obedience. "Perhaps a change of subject? How did you spend your evening?"
She must have been referring to last night, in which case, "Drinking with their prince, Rhenan."
She turned to behold him with surprise. "Did you have fun?"
"An educational retreat." She was the last who would know of what had been said.
"I suppose you would not meet with someone just for fun. There would have to be a good reason behind it. Did you learn anything interesting?"
"Yes," he sighed. "The man drinks his weight."
~ PETRA ~
"You know, I was quite looking forward to having some peace and quiet, but then I thought, is it ever peaceful? Is it ever quiet?"
Her grandson sat in her lap and had found it amusing to tap his wooden horse against the wrought iron pattern of the table. They dined outside, her sons either side of her while her daughters were socialising with girls their own age. Someone had to watch the boy, and then the bigger two.
"Wesley, no," she sighed as she reached for the assaulting hand who had taken a fancy to a slice of lemon resting in the centre of the table. "You will have to learn to behave if you are to be a page boy at your uncle's wedding." She raised her brow at Tristian, for the day of his union was inching closer. Arrangements for Lady Constance's chambers were in the preliminary days of planning but it would not be long until she was there with them, a new member of the family welcomed with open arms.
"I do hope you wrote to Lady Constance and inquired about her health. All the usual pleasantries as she decided not to attend the festivities. Young ladies do not like the thought of being forgotten."
"Of course I've not forgotten her," her eldest son said with offence, but he said not whether he had sent her a letter. He frowned, surely having realised his own omission, then added, "The church would not allow such a girl to lose her health. I do not worry about it. She is a girl of God."
It was to be expected of him, she supposed. Avoiding giving proper answers unless probed further. She raised a dark brow and shook her head. "Did you write?" She gazed at her son in expectation of an honest answer, though almost broke her mask when Wesley turned to do the same. Rather than appearing curious, however, her grandson merely looked disgusted.
And Tristian looked further disgusted at the boy before looking up to meet her eyes. "I wrote her, Mama. She is to be my wife. Of course I've written to her."
She was not entirely convinced and shook her head. "Has he written, Rhenan?"
Her youngest boy who was yet again picking his teeth with his blade, which she'd banished from the tables time and again, looked over to her. He took his feet from the seat beside him. "He always writes the girl. Father Conwell intercepts them, though. Tosses them in the fire. Lest they pollute her before the marriage."
"Well, I know what you are both like. If only you knew some of the things your father wrote to me when I was a girl. Your hair would grow curlier."
She smirked as she recalled her youth and the horror as her parents made her read the words of the then-prince aloud before them. Through the years she had never determined which was worse, their actual silence or the fear each time that they would comment on the contents.
"Yes, it's little wonder where you get it from. Though, on a related matter, I thought it was charming that you are already sending her jewelery. What was it, if I might ask?"
She had ventured to the jeweler's quarters of the castle to inquire about the design of a wedding gift for Lady Constance though found the masters already labouring over a design commissioned by her eldest. At first she suspected he may have organised the creation as a sign that he was thinking of her, but if she recalled correctly, Lady Constance was not fond of overly-elaborate designs, least of all when they were not religious in nature. A simple ring would be
the gift from herself, not something she would consider ostentatious.
As it was, her son only appeared confused. "I sent her jewelery?"
"Unless I have stumbled upon the crafting of a gift for your sisters, or even myself. If that is the case then I can only apologise, but I was told you wished it made urgently."
He stumbled over his words. "O-oh, yes, that jewelery. I'd not expected anyone to notice."
He was hiding something from her and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. "They were working much faster than they usually do. It was quite the hurry. How strange that you happened to forget about it."
Wesley commenced tapping the rear of the horse against the ridge of the table while glaring at the eldest of his uncles. Even he was waiting for the truth. "What was the design?"
She could see the hesitance on his face. "The holy sunstar, I do believe."
"Are you sure?" Rhenan spoke up. "It wouldn't have happened to be a creature of the avian variety?"
Tristian shot him a look. "I do not see why our business is either of yours." Recognising his tone, through his upset he dimmed apologetically towards her. "Forgive me. I merely wish the people of this castle did not meddle so intensely."
She could understand his complaint, yet Rhenan's interjection made her all the more curious as to what the design actually was, and furthermore, why Tristian kept it so hushed. "If it is merely a gift for Lady Constance, then why the secrecy?" She sighed and reached for her son's hand, all while trying to keep Wesley under control. "I can tell when you are hiding something from me, my dear."
Tristian had a way that was so roughly hewn around the others, yet infallibly soft with herself. He appeared indignant just then. "Very well, Mother, it was a bird. Are you satisfied to have pried so deeply? Would you care to know the details of our intimacy when the time arrives? Should I detail it through a letter?"
"Mama," she corrected.
"Mama," he agreed.
"A bird, for Lady Constance?" she went on, not dignifying his other questions with a response. "She is very pious to want a bird, dear. It all seems rather much."
"I went to the jeweler, I had the bird made. What else is there to discuss? Why do we never exploit my beastly little brother, whom, might I remind you, is conveniently unwed."
His beastly little brother, who had endeavored to pick the other side of his mouth with his blade. Tristian did not make a bad point, for Rhenan was unmarried. For years they had pestered Tristian about his bachelorhood, yet Rhenan was not far off the age, and had surpassed the years Tristian had when the pressure had began. She turned slowly to eye her younger son and pointed a sharp finger in his direction.
"I spent eighteen hours attempting to rid you from my womb, my dear. I would appreciate, especially before your poor old mother, if you did not poke around in your mouth with that thing, lest you slip and slice that cherubic face."
Rhenan afforded her a rather crude look, but obeyed, muttering, "I never asked to be put in there."
"Judging by the size of you, I am quite glad that you do not remain. One thing that still stands true about you and your brother. You both have big heads."
Wesley burst into fits of laughter, though she was sure he could not understand. Regardless, she planted a kiss against the soft tufts at the back of his head and eyed both sons in turn. "But handsome heads, all the same."
"One more so than the other," Tristian conceded.
"Aye, your head's bigger, too."
Her eldest son let out a long wind of breath and said, "It's understandable, Mama. You and Father couldn't have made too many perfect faces like my own. Instead you were forced to the likes of Rhenan here's, and his unsightly manners. Finding a household willing to forgive such a hideous man...well, they'd sooner accept a life of poverty."
Now she was the one to laugh. Poverty was an interesting question and was easily what many suspected of Thellemere, even though they did possess resources and she was certain they were sitting on more.
"Astrid Misseldon."
She noted how both sons stiffened at the name.
"Oh come now, you react to that name like she's some hag in disguise. Besides, we will wait until she is of eighteen years. It will not be immediate."
Now they both wore confusion, and like this, their visages were startling indiscernible.
"What could you possibly mean by that?" Tristian asked with a questionable amount of interest. Far more than that of when speaking about Constance.
"What? Princess Astrid? It extends our influence to Thellemere."
"Yes, but I am already set to wed."
"You idiot," Rhenan said. "She means me."
She blinked a few times in surprise and gazed at her eldest with a look of suspicion. "You did not fall in love with her when she was your partner in hide and seek, did you? I thought you were terribly eager to have her, but I put it down to not wanting the Misseldon siblings to conspire together and allowing Rhenan to partner Jocelyn."
It took him a moment to answer, his gaze struggling between a glare at Rhenan—who appeared miffed by something beyond her comprehension—and herself. "I did not care about that game last summer, I surely did not care about it this one. I chose the girl because I remember explicit instructions from my parents to gather information on the two of them. The prince was too expedient and reserved, but the female seemed an easy target. But fall in love? With her? What sort of man do you take me for?"
She took him for a man who took his pleasures. He was a man who enjoyed the thrill of conquest and a princess of Thellemere, a land shrouded with as much mystery as the royal family it housed, would no doubt be his golden moment.
She sat back in her chair and sighed. "Well, as I have her in mind for Rhenan perhaps you can share more about her. This easy target?"
Again with his stalled tongue. If he had not fallen for the beautiful foreigner, then what about her gave him pause?
His eyes fell to the table then. "She is simple and has the mind of a child."
"What ever happened to the nonexistence of simplicity?" his brother grated.
"She recreated it," he ground in return, then cast that fire her way. "Rhenan cannot possibly marry that girl. Thellemere has nothing to offer us. It is but cold, unyielding soil with those false-god-worshipping heathens mining the land with even further evil."
"Oh?" Rhenan cut in before she could answer. "So you could not dare to imagine my having Thornston intercourse with the likes of an ice witch? Because of my soul? It's eternal sufferance?"
Tristian was nearly out of his seat. "Yes," he spat.
"And-and to caress her body, Tristian?" Rhenan growled. "How filthy would I be—"
"Boys!" She broke the bickering with a sharp reminder that she was the adult here. Her glare was like a pendulum of disappointment that sent both males into an abrupt silence. "Not in front of Wesley."
"Nurse!" Almost immediately the trained stance of the servant appeared beside her and held out her arms to her grandson. The little boy shuffled from his grandmother's lap, for surely he must have anticipated attention and being spoiled.
"Bye bye," he babbled with a wave of his hand to Rhenan and herself, yet Tristian held the most interest. Without warning he stuck his finger into his nose and deposited what he pulled out onto his uncle's hand. "Bye!"
Tristian momentarily forgot his staring war with his brother to appear utterly aghast, then utterly repulsed, rising half-way as though to go after the boy, then seeming to remember he was twenty-seven years of age, therefore settling with a murderous glare at the boy.
She held in her laughter as the nurse scooped him into her arms and hurried away. "Oh just wipe it off."
He did just that.
On her sleeve. "There, Mama. For you."
She gasped in horror as she saw the green string dangling from a swampy clump at one end. With a stern glare, she turned to eye Tristian. "I will say this calmly. Get a cloth and wipe it off. Or I shall write and tell Lady Constance that yo
u enjoy playing with your snot."
"I was following orders, like always. You told me to wipe it off. You didn't specify where. But," he said picking up the red and gold cloth folded beside their platters. "For the sake of my image." He dabbed the contents away with a grimace all the while.
"Little boys are disgusting, but big boys who bicker all the time are just as bad." She sunk further into her seat. "So, continue."
Oh, but it seemed her boys had lost their flare to resume where they had left off, her youngest son back to trying to impale his mouth with his blade, her eldest folding the handkerchief around Wesley's gift as though it were a deadly contagion.
She sighed. "So, what about caressing her, Rhenan?"
Both sons were tight-lipped beneath her scrutiny, as they always had been with one another's secrets—and there was most certainly a secret sealed behind both of their lips.
"I can't marry her," Rhenan suddenly agreed, blade dropped onto the table. "It would require she lives here, and I am almost always passing through, but never truly present. Not only that, but the Sirista would shit themselves."
She shook her head. "Not necessarily. As second son you would be a useful envoy between our land and Thellemere. You could take her with you. It's not unknown for men and their wives to adopt nomadic lifestyles. There is always the option to leave her in Thellemere and visit when you please. A house near the border, perhaps. Besides, we will take good care of her here. You know I would."
Rhenan appeared to have run out of answers, his eyes darting to his brother in a plea for help.
"H-he cannot marry the Misseldon," Tristian started up again.
"The borders are the harshest lands to settle in," Rhenan attempted.
"Thellemere wouldn't welcome him," said Tristian.
"And she can't travel with me; I do dangerous work."
"And besides," Tristian said, "King Robert would never agree to their union."
"King Robert is playing war. Three years until you can marry his daughter. He may not last that long. Take advantage of their instability and eventually, perhaps, there could be a little golden-haired queen on that throne with a Hanson man beside her."
Bonds: A Cursed Six novel (The Cursed Six Book 1) Page 23
